PS 
1669 
F19 
D7 


• 


THE  DRAMA  IN  POKERVILLE;  THE  BENCH 
AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN,  AND  OTHER 
STORIES 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


OP 


1 

^ 
w 
KX 

m 

»! 

THE 
THE 
AND 

J.   M 

DRAMA  IN  POKER  VILLE; 
BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN, 
OTHER  STORIES 

.   Field 

M 

& 

[si 

UNIVERSITY  MICROFILMS,  INC. 

A  Subsidiary  of  Xerox  Corporation 
Ann  Arbor 

DRAMA  IN  POKEEVILLE; 


THE  BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN, 


AND 


OTHER    STORIES. 


BY  "EVERPOINT," 

(J.  M"  FIELD,  ESQ.,  OF  THE  ST.  LOUIS  REVEILLE.) 

•I 


tUit!)  <£igt)t  Jlinstrations, 

FROM  ORIGINAL  DESIGNS,    ENGRAVED   EXPRESSLY  FOR  THIS  WORK, 

BY  F.  O.  C.  DARLEY. 

•^^'•A'V 


PHILADELPHIA  i 

CAREY    AND    HART. 

1847. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


'  I  — 


H  — 


*       - 


01  = 


-        u 


to  = 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  ConyreM,  In  th«  year  1147,  by 

CAREY  *   HAHT, 
In  the  Clwk'i  Offlce  of  U>e  DUtrlct  Court  of  the  Eiwtem  Dtitrtct  of  Penniylvanla. 


«r  L.  joiiN»otf  A  eo 

PHILADELPHIA. 

T.  K.  Ac  P.  O    COLI.INII,  PHINTKRB. 


Orbiratum. 

TO  MESSRS.  CAREY  &  HART, 

Publishers,  Philadelphia. 


—  This  morning,  accompanying  certain  proof- 
sheets,  I  received  a  few  lines  from  you,  informing  me  that  I  had 
neglected  to  enclose  among  my  M8S.  of  «  The  Drama  in  Poker- 
ville,"  &c.,  a  Dedication  I  and  requesting"  me,  at  once,  .to  supply 
the  deficiency,  under  peril  of  a  delayed  press  and  further  calami 
ties  !  Gentlemen,  in  my  present  distress  of  mind,  I  really  know 
no  friends  whom  /  think  more  of  than  yourselves  ;  permit  me, 
therefore,  in  no  less  sincerity  than  haste,  to  dedicate  the  volume 
to  you,  whose  enterprise  and  liberality  have  opened  out  a  native 
literary  path,  which,  albeit  not  the  most  elevated,  nevertheless 
hath  its  pleasant  ways,  and  which  I  hope  very  many  may  travel 
with  more  credit  to  themselves,  and  amusement  to  the  public, 
than  doth  your  obliged  servant, 

THE  AUTHOR. 
St.  Louii,  Mo.,  June  7,  1847. 


-. 


r 


A  SUCKER  IN  A  WARM  BATH. 

«  Back  went  old  fatty  against  the  centre- table." 


..-«*    rv  Y('     JZ- 


THE 


(DRAMA  IN  POKERVILLE, 
THE  BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURY-TOW, 

AND    OTHER    STORIES. 
BY   "EVERPOINT." 


14  But  while  in  the  act  of  aiming  it,  Cynthy  threw  a  pillow  in  hii  face." 

PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED  BY  CAREY  &  HART. 

1847. 


. 


PREFACE. 


THE  reader  will  have  seen,  from  the  preceding  page,  that 
the  author  of  the  present  collection  of  stories  is  either  very 
remiss  in  his  habits,  or  else  very  green  at  publishing. 
"  The  Drama  in  Pokerville"  actually  sent  to  the  printer 
without  a  dedication  !  What  will  he  say,  then,  when  he 
is  informed  that  the  same  letter  which  called  for  the  dedi 
cation,  reminded  the  author  that  he  was  also  sending  forth 
his  book,  in  the  most  barefaced  manner,  without  a  Preface 
either ! 

The  Drama  in  Pokerville  came  as  near  being  damned 
for  want  of  regular  announcement,  as  it  too  often  does,  in 
other  important  places,  from  pushing  the  announcements, 
&c.,  too  far !  The  truth  is,  the  author  would  have  been 
content,  letting  the  reader  do  his  own  prefacing,  and  arriv 
ing  at  his  own  conclusion-— in  the  middle  of  the  volume, 
perhaps — but  the  demand  has  been  made,  and  ihopourquoi 
of  the  matter  must  be  given. 

In  a  few  words,  then,  certain  scatterlings  on  the  face  of 
the  land  have  been,  for  some  time  back,  scribbling  queer 
things  for  the  amusement  of  the  queer  people,  and,  volume 
after  volume,  theso  things  have  been,  quecrly,  condensing 
into  book  shape,  taking  upon  themselves,  moreover,  certain 


6  PREFACE. 

decencies  of  binding,  and  what  not,  and  actually  getting 
responsible  persons  to  stand  up  and  answer  for  their  adop 
tion  into  the  more  regularly  begat,  and  better  conditioned 
family  of  literature.  They  are  called  eccentric,  to  be  sure, 
but  then  they  are  tolerated  as  being  such,  and,  satisfied  with 
their  reception,  they  are  contentedly  multiplying  their 
numbers-— we  will  not  presume  to  say  influence— day  by 
day. 

The  respectable  publishers  of  the  present  volume  are 
chiefly  responsible  for  the  sin  of  its  appearance.  From 
their  vast  literary  granary,  they  think  it  good  and  whole 
some  to  dispense,  occasionally,  a  measure  of  mirth;  and 
they  have  thought  it  good,  moreover,  to  select  the  present 
writer  as  one  who  might,  perhaps,  assist  in  supplying  the 
demand.  The  writer  has  nothing  further  to  say,  (whatever 
he  may  hope,)  save  that  the  new  stories  in  the  collection 
were  written  very  hastily,  and  that  the  longest  of  them— 
**  The  Drama,"  &c. — he  has  had  no  opportunity  of  revising, 
a  proof  of  it  not  having  been  included  among  the  sheets 
sent  to  him.  As  Manager  Dust  might  say,  he  throws  him 
self  entirely  "  upon  the  known  generosity  of  a  Pokerville 
audience  !" 

THE  AUTHOR. 

St.  Louis,  Mo.,  June  7, 1847. 


CONTENTS.  v 

I 

THE  DBAMA  isr  POKKRVILLE .' 9    v 

The  Great  Small  Affair  Announcement ..9   V 

Feeling  in Pokprvillo, , 13 

The  Great  Small  Affair  Opening 15 

The  Great  Pokerville  Preliminaries ...39 

The  Great  Small  Affair  Mystery 40 

The  Great  Pokerville  Re-union 43 

The  Great  Small  Affair  Dinner 61 

The  Great  Pokerville  "Saw" 65 

The  Great  Small  Affair  Scandal 70 

The  Great  Small  Affair  Chastisement .".....74 

The  Great  Small  Affair  Duel 83 

What  was  built  on  the  Great  Small  Affair  Foundation. . .  .88 

f  THE  BENCH  AXD  BAB  or  JURTTOWK 93 

/  A  SUCKRB  ix  A  WARM  BATH 100 

y  AST"  AWFUL  PLACK" 103 

^THK  ELK  RUXNKBS 108 

/"OLD  SOL"  ix  A  DELICATE  SITUATION .......«*».». 113 
Tux  "  GAUUIXU  SCHKMJC  ;"  on,  WRIT'S  GBBAT  PIOTUMI 118 

4    EltTAni.IHIlINri  TICK  $CIKKCK   ,, 129 

/  OLE  BULL  IK  TUK  «  SOLITUDE" 134 

i  How  OCB  FRIEND  B — '•  HAIB  WKITT 139 

J  A  FAKCT  BAIIKKEPIB ....143 

^"MR.  NOBBLI!" 149 

7 


CONTENTS. 


Pf* 

157 


4 


A«Hu*o"  Ji-nr  .......  .  ..................................  160 

J  PATIUJTAL  GuiBiwof  .......................................  164 

A  WIRRY  GRAVX  EXHORTATION  ..........................  ..166 

"YouRTuRic  NEXT,  SIR"  ..................................  169 

J  STOI-  FIHO  TO  «  Woon"  .................  ........  .......  .....173 

/  DKATII  or  MIKR  FJNK  .....................  .  ............  ....177 

ESTABLIUHIXU  A  COXJCECTIOX  .  ..  .....  ...  ...................  184 

J  A  NIOHT  ix  A  SWAMP  ..........  .  ........  ....  ...............  188 

STEAMBOAT  MISERIES  ...............  ....  ..........  ........  .194 

</  A  RiiuRfticTioiurr  AND  Hn  FRIIOHT  ..  ..197 


• 


THE 

DRAMA  IN  POKERVILLE; 


OB,  THX 


GREAT  SMALL  AFFAIR  COMPANY. 


THE  GREAT  SMALL  AFFAIR  ANNOUNCEMENT! 
POKERVILLE  THEATRE, 

(LATE   WILSON'S   STORE-SHKD.) 

FIRST  NIGHT  OF  THE  SEASON! 

Thus  doth  immortal  Shaktpcare  flourish  •till- 
First  night  of  a  short  season  in  Pokeroto.' 

$$•  MR.  OSCAR  DUST,  Manager  of  the  Great  Small 
Affair  Theatre,  begs  to  inform  the  public,  that,  at  the 
urgent  solicitation  of  many  distinguished  citizens,  he 
has  arrived,  with  the  purpose  of  FOUNDING  THE  DRA&TA 
in  Pokerville  !  Mr.  O.  D.  announces  his  intention  of 
making  simply  a  short  season  of  two  weeks — or  more 
at  farthest — during  which  time  he  will  have  the  honour 
of  presenting  to  the  citizens  of  Pokerville,  in  a  style  of 
unrivalled  perfection,  all  the  ckeifde  evers  of  dramatic 
genius ! 

Mr.  O.  D.  would  call  attention  to  the  following  un 
precedented  list  of  talent : 

9 


10  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

Mas.  OSCAR  DUST,  of  the  Great  Small  Affair  Theatre, 
also  of  the  principal  eastern  houses,  this  being 
the  last  engagement  which  she  will  perform 
prior  to  her  departure  for  Europe  ! 

Miss  FANNY  WILKINS, — poetically  termed  the  Rising 
Star! 

MR.  KEMBLE  WHITE,  whose  performance  of  Rollo  has 
been  hailed  as  the  only  true  picture  of  the  proud 
Peruvian. 

MR.  JOHN  WATERS,  the  Classic  Veteran. 

MR.  T.  FITZCAROL,  the  distinguished  Vocalist,  from 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  London. 

MR.  HENRY  CHARLES  JOHNSON,  the  celebrated  Musi 
cian  and  Composer. 

MR.  HENRY,  Artist. 

MR.  CHARLES,  Costumer. 

MR.  JOHNSON,  Machinist. 

Mr.  0.  D.  feels,  that,  with  this  powerful  array  of 
talent,  he  may  safely  announce  to  the  citizens  of  Poker- 
ville  a  classic  treaty  on  this,  the 

OPENING  NIGHT, 

Monday,  June  6, 

When  will  be  presented  the  celebrated  Anglo-Gerraan- 
Peruvian  Tragedy  of 

PIZARRO, 

OB, 

THE  DEATH  BRIDGE, 

(With  a  new  PRECIPICE.) 

0^-  Mr.  O.  D.  respectfully  informs  the  public,  that, 
availing  himself  of  the  peculiar  structure  of  the  build 
ing,  the  artist  of  the  establishment  has  been  enabled  to 


THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE.  11 

present  the  Bridge  scene  in  a  thrillingly  effective  man 
ner. 

Characters  in  the  Play. 

ROLLO,  The  Proud  Peruvian,  -    Mr.  KEMBLE  WHITE. 
Pizarro,      ....        Mr.  J.  Waters. 
Alonzo,          -        -        -        -    Mr.  T.  Fitzcarol 
Ataleba,     ....        Mr.  Oscar  Dust. 
Valverde,       -         -        -        -     Mr.  Henry. 
Osano,        ....        Mr.  Charles. 
Sentinel,        ....     Mr.  Johnson. 
ELVIRA, — "Meet  and  Survive!'1   Mrs.  OSCAR  DUST. 
Cora, — Daughter  of  the  Sun,    -    Miss  Fanny  Wilkins. 
Priests,  Vestals,  Peruvians,  Spaniards,  &c.,  by  the 
rest  of  the  Company. 

Act  1st.  The  Conqueror. 
Ad  2d.  The  Descent  of  Real  Fire ! 
Act  3d.  The  Conflict.    «  Cora  !  rather  bid  me  strike 
this  sword  into  my  heart !" 
Act  4M.  The  Blighted  Plantain ! 
Act  5th.  THE  DEATH  BRIDGE. 

(jt$-  Mr.  0.  D.  would  respectfully  request  attention 
to  Mr.  Kemble  White's  dying  scene,  it  having  been 
universally  acknowledged  as  the  most  faithful  delinea 
tion  of  death  from  gun-shot  wounds. 

After  tJie  Tragedy, 

"MARCH  TO  THE  BATTLE  FIELD," 

(In  character,)     ...        by  Mr.  T.  Fitzcarol. 

Pas  de  Pokerville, 

(Composed    and    arranged    expressly  for  the  occa 
sion,)  ....    Miss  FANNY  WILKINS. 


12  THE   DRAMA   IK   POKERVILLE. 

The  whole  to  conclude  with  the  new  and  favourite 
Afterpiece,  called 

NATURE  **.  PHILOSOPHY;  ' 

OB, 

"Is  It  a  Bird?" 
COLIN,  The  youth  who  never  )  ^  0gcAR 

saw  a  woman,  ) 

Eliza,  Her  first  ecstasy,        -        Miss  Fanny  Wilkins. 

NOTICE.— Colonel  Mugs,  chief  constable,  will  be 
in  attendance  to  enforce  an  observance  of  etiquette. 
The  three  front  benches  reserved  for  ladies.  No  smok 
ing  allowed,  save  at  the  windows.  (jc^»  Peanuts  and 
Pecans  prohibited,  save  while  the  curtain  is  down. 

No  admittance  behind  the  scenes  on  any  account. 

Palladium  Office,  print. 


FEELING  IN  POKERVILLE. 

The  Great  Small  Affair  poster,  printed  at  the  office 
of  the  Pokerville  Palladium — one  full  sheet — attracted 
the  gaze  of  all,  as  may  be  supposed.  There  was,  cer 
tainly,  a  great  desire  felt  to  have  a  theatre  established 
in  Pokerville,  a  very  promising  town,  situated  «  out" 
— somewhere,  on  the  "Big" — something,  at  the  head 
of  navigation,  with  a  fine  back  country,  and,  conse 
quently  bound  to  become  "  a  place,"  as  sure  as  shoot 
ing  !  There  were,  already,  several  brick  stores  ;  mer 
chants  were  settling,  steamboats  arriving,  prodoose 
departing, — in  short,  « taking  a  company"  there  was 
a  sure  speculation,  and  Manager  Dust  no  sooner  ub- 
mitted  the  matter  to  Mrs.  D.,  than  she,'  unequivocally, 


THE  DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  13 

pronounced  it  to  be  a  firstrate  idea !  There  was  a 
« heap"  of  taste  in  Pokerville,  too,  and  it  had  its 
«  first  families  ;"  besides,  its  larger  neighbour,  Coons- 
borough,  which  hitherto  had  engrossed  all  the  business, 
had  long  had  a  theatre,  and  corner  lots  commanded, 
even  already,  more  in  Pokerville  than  they  did  in 
Coonsborough.  It  was  perfectly  plain,  then,  that  Man 
ager  Dust  was  just  nat'rally  bound  to  make  «  a  corde 
of  money !" 

The  Pokerville  Palladium  hailed,  with  enthusiasm, 
the  "  dawn  of  Thespis,"  as  the  editor  figuratively  ex 
pressed  it.  Printing  the  bills ;  on  terms  of  admiring 
intimacy  with  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust ;  rather  smitten  with 
Miss  Fanny  Wilkins,  and  on  cocktail  acquaintance 
with  the  rest  of  the  company,  from  Mr.  Kemble 
White  to  Messrs.  Henry,  Charles,  and  Johnson, — a 
mysterious  trinity,  of  whom  more  anon, — how  could 
the  editor  of  the  Palladium  be  other  than  favourable  ? 
That  widely  circulated  journal,  alter  describing  the 
nobly  conceived  and  expensive  alterations  which  had 
converted  «  Wilson's  store-shed'*  into  a  home  of  the 
muses,  and  assuring  its  readers,  that  the  coop  de  oil  (the 
editor  never  indulged  in  French — this  notice  must 
have  been  written  by  the  more  refined  manager)  would 
«  strike  every  beholder,"  went  off  into  even  a  sublimer 
strain  with  regard  to  the  Great  Small  Affair  Company ! 
Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  to  Siddonian  majesty,  united  grace 
and  pathos,  speaking  a  native  delicacy  of  mind  ;  while 
Miss  Fanny  Wilkins,  as  rich  in  the  accomplishments 
of  the  artiste  as  remarkable  for  the  propriety  of  her 
private  deportment,  was  formed  to  captivate  all  hearts. 
Mr.  Kemble  White  was  clearly  marked  as  the  future 
pride  of  the  American  stage  ;  attention  was  called  to 

2 


14  Till:  DRAMA  IN  POKERVILLE. 

the  chaste  and  beautiful  reading  of  the  "  Classic  Vete 
ran,"  Mr.  Waters ;  Mr,  Fitzcarol  was  to  stir  the  soul 
with  melody,  while  Mr.  Henry  Charles  Johnson,  Mr. 
Henry,  Mr.  Charles,  and  plain  Johnson,  were  all  won 
ders,  in  their  way. 

The  three  taverns,  and  thirty-three  bar-rooms,  of 
Pokerville,  exclusive  of  a  billiard-room  and  ten-pin- 
alley,  were  alive  at  an  early  hour.  No  event  had  been 
so  discussed  since  the  arrival  of  the  first  steamboat.  A 
travelling  menagerie,  to  be  sure,  the  summer  previous, 
with  its  elephant  and  monkeys,  had  attracted  consider 
able  attention,  but  this  was  all  forgotten,  and  varmints 
were  "no  whnr,"  in  comparison  with  the  anticipations 
with  regard  to  Wilson's  store-shed,  and  real  live  act 
ors  !  Several  had  made  bold  to  peep  inside,  in  spite 
of  the  "No  Admittance"  which  frowned  from  a  shin 
gle,  over  the  door,  and  each  one  declared  that  it  just 
beat  any  thing  «  this  side  of  Orleens,"  to  death  !  The 
niggers  were  patting  Juba  on  every  corner,  but  the 
pleasurable  excitement  among  ihe  "  first  families"  was 
scarcely  less  remarkable.  .  The  leading  woman  was 
Mrs.  Major  Slope,  whose  husband  having  had  a  trust 
of  some  kind  in  Florida,  had  "helped  himself  and 
quit,"  to  enjoy  a  tolerable-sized  plantation — settled 
on  his  wife.  Mrs.  S.  had  "  been  on  to  Washington" 
turice,  and,  altogether,  taste  and  fashion  were  of  the 
Slope  cut  in  Pokerville.  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  had  letters 
to  Mrs.  Major  Slope,  and  Mrs.  Major  Slope  had,  at 
at  once,  called  on  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust ;  both  ladies  were 
charmed  with  the  identity  of  their  tastes  and  feelings 
— the  ideal  being  paramount  with  each,  and  friendship 
and  patronage  were  things  of  course.  Didn't  Mrs. 
Oscar  Dust  spread  herself,  to  the  entire  obscuration  of 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  15 

Miss  Fanny  Wilkins,  who  had  not  the  entrte  of  society ! 
and  didn't  she  manage,  in  the  blandest  kind  of  way, 
to  take  preventive  measures  against  said  young  lady's 
ever  arriving  at  that  high  distinction ! 


THE  GREAT  SMALL -AFFAIR  OPENING. 

IT  was  a  great  night  for  Pokerville!  Everybody 
knows  what  n  first  night  is !  Colonel  Mug,  as  chef  de 
police,  made  a  desperate  effort  to  retain  front  seats,  but 
Mrs.  Major  Slope  coming  rather  late,  and  Mrs,  Wil 
son,  lady  of  « Wilson's  store-shed,"  feeling  herself, 
under  the  circumstances,  equally  privileged,  both  la 
dies  were  obliged  to  stand  up  and  be  scroitged  until 
chairs  could  be  brought  from  the  hotel,  when  they 
were  gracefully  placed — like  sister  muses,  as  Mr.  Oscar 
Dust  expressed  it — in  opposite  corners  of  the  pro 
scenium;  from  which  remote  position  Mrs.  Major  Slope 
immediately  prepared  to  bring  the  performances  to  her, 
by  means  of  a  double-barreled  opera-glass !  Mr.  H. 
C,  Johnson,  an  unobtrusive  young  man,  with  straight 
hair,  and  a  faint  rent  under  the  arm,  now  took  his  seat 
at  the  piano — Mrs.  Major  Slope's  own,  and  which  now 
constituted  the  Great  Small  Affair  orchestra.  Apples  were 
munched,  pecans  cracked  ;  there  was  a  lively  chewing 
and  spitting,  while  at  least  six  in  each  window,*  with 
one  leg  dangling  out,  smoked,  in  strict  compliance 
with  the  published  regulations.  Every  thing  was  lively, 
too,  behind  the  scenes  ;  Mr.  Oscar  Dust,  never  taking 
more  than  «  three  minutes  to  dress,"  was  busy  with 
the  lights,  having  got  through  the  tickets  ;  Mrs.  Os<;ar 
and  Miss  Fanny,  dressing  together,  behind  a  carefully 


16  THE    DRAMA    IN    POKERV  ILLL*. 

pinned-up  shawl,  were  "hooking"  each  other;  Mr. 
Kemble  White  was  pulling  on  his  fleshings,  behind  a 
« throne  chair ;"  Mr.  Fitzcarol  was  contemplating  a 
somewhat  peculiar  physiognomy — of  which  more  anon 
— in  a  triangular  bit  of  looking-glass,  under  a  sconce ; 
while  the  Classic  Veteran,  Mr.  Waters,  already  dressed 
for  Pizarro,  under  a  black  feather  and  a  press  of  enthu 
siasm,  was  measuring  the  stage — exactly  five  strides  in 
depth.  Messrs.  Henry,  Charles,  and  plain  Johnson, 
were  not  about,  singularly  enough,  but  the  matter  was 
partially  explained  when,  a  Strauss  waltz  ceasing  in 
front,  Mr.  II.  C.  Johnson  suddenly  made  his  appear 
ance  behind,  pulled  off  his  pants,  showed  his  legs,  al 
ready  incased  in  tights,  jerked  on  a  pair  of  buff  boots, 
slipped  into  a  tunic,  and  was  dressed  for  Valverde  ! 
Mr.  Fit/carol,  who  was  "  dressed  under"  for  Alorizo, 
now  clapped  on  a  white  shirt  and  gray  wig,  to  «  dou 
ble"  Orozimbo  ;  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  prepared  himself  in  a 
trice  to  do  the  same  for  Las  Casas ;  the  Spanish  and 
Peruvian  armies  were  supposed  to  be  «  seen  off."  A 
tinkle  of  the  bell— Mr.  O.  D.  himself  pulled. up  the 
curtain,  and  now  «  Hats  off  in  front !" — «  Stop  them 
pecans  !" — «  Silence!" — "  Sit  down  !"  &c. 

Elvira!  (Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,)  had  seen  all  the  Siddons 
prints,  and  Queen  Catherine,  Lady  Macbeth,  Constance, 
and  Mrs.Oscar  Dust  herself,  in  their  combined  majesties, 
now  loomed  upon  the  Pokerville  audience,  their  heads, 
in  fact,  almost  in  the  skies,  which — perhaps  in  some 
measure  owing  to  the  "peculiar  construction"  of  the 
house — seemed  to  bend  to  meet  them.  There  was  a 
tremendous  cheer.  Mrs.  Major  Slope  waved  her  hand 
kerchief,  for  which  reason  Mrs.  Wilson's  store-shed  did 
not,  and  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust's  practised  eye  at  'once  per- 


THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  17 

ceived  that  she  would  have  to  manoeuvre  between  rival 
patronesses.     Her  courtesy  was  the  grandest  thing  ever 
seen  in  Pokerville,  while  the  way  in  which,  with  a 
corner  of  either  grateful  eye,  she  signified  the  intensity 
of  her  emotions  to  each  corner  of  the  stage,  was  little 
less  than  a  thrill  to  the  fair  occupants  of  both.    Mrs. 
Oscar  Dust  was  a  lady  of  a  very  «  certain  age,"  with  a 
decidedly  commanding  figure ;  that  *  is,  she  weighed 
one  hundred  and  eighty  pounds !    She  was  florid,  with  a 
«  remarkably  fine  head  of  hair ;"  prominent  eyes,  which 
she  made  peculiarly  effective  in  her  mad  scenes,  and  a 
nose  somewhat  fat,  and  of  an  "  upward  tendency,"  as 
they  say  in  the  cotton  market.     Mrs.  Dust  was  a  great 
wardrobe  fancier,  and  she  now  stood  wrapt  up  in  classic 
interest.     She  wore   the   identical  train,   "  as  Waters 
knew,"  (he  knew  every  thing,  «  like  a  good  creature,") 
in  which  Mrs.  Siddons  took  her  farewell  of  the  stage. 
Her  satin  under-dress  was  that  in  which  Miss  O'Nicl 
made  her  first  appearance  in  London;  her  drapery  had 
been  sent  to  her  from  Paris  by  Mam'sclle  Mars ;  while 
her  girdle  had  clasped  the  waist  of  Josephine  VEmpe- 
ratrice  herself!     There  was  an  anecdote  complimentary 
to  Mrs.  Dust  in  every  inch  of  every  article  she  wore, 
down  to  the  darns  on  her  silk  Blockings ;  and  if  in  all 
this  grandeur  she  still  looked  a  little  dingy,  it  was  en 
tirely  owing  to  her  romantic  devotion  to  such  relics ; 
indeed,  as  Mrs.  Dust  was  fond  of  declaring,  they  were 
essential  to  her  inspirations ! 

Elvira  wns  the  «  great  creature"  in  every  gesture. 
Mr.  Henri/  was  "  chaste  and  correct,"  and,  with  the 
roll  of  a  drum,  skilfully  executed  by  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  at 
the  wing,  entered  the  Conqueror  of  Peru.  This  is 
no  time  to  criticize  ;  suffice  it  that  the  « doubles" 

o* 


18  TH£   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

acted  a  full  night's  work  in  either  part,  regardless  of 
the  fact  that  they  were  "  dressed  under"  for  still  more 
arduous  duties.  Elvira  was  thrillingly  severe  upon 
Pizarro  ;  Valverde  took  upon  himself  to  stab  Orozimbo 
instead  of  Davilla,  no  warrior  of  the  latter  name  being 
by ;  the  murderous  blow  was  received  with  a  yell,  as  a 
favourite  point ;  the  conqueror  declared  his  intentions 
with  regard  to  Quito,  and  down  fell  the  curtain  upon  a 
«  deep  sensation !" 

SECOND  ACT — Introducing  Miss  Fanny  Wilkiris — 
Cora !  and  there  she  was,  a  nice  little,  fair-skinned, 
open-eyed,  loveable-looking  girl,  with  a  modest  air,  and 
such  ancles ;  the  whole  effect  rendered  more  piquant 
by  her  simple  white  dress,  the  right  length  to  a  line. 
And  there  was  "  Cora's  child,"  too, — by  the  by,  we 
have  never  heard  that  Alonzo  entertained  any  misgiv 
ings  on  the  subject,  but  the  play-bills  invariably  pay 
but  little  attention  to  his  claims  as  a  father — "  Cora's 
child  !"  concerning  which  innocent  the  happy  mother 
observes,  that  "he  will  speak  soon;"  and  that  his  teeth, 
"  pearls,"  &c.,  will  soon  «  break  the  crimson  buds  that 
do  encase  them,"  but  which  lines  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins 
judiciously  "  cut  out,"  inasmuch  as  that  "  her  lord's 
image  anil  her  heart's  adored,"  the  teethling  in  ques 
tion,  was  a  seven  year  old,  with  a  wide  mouth,  and 
one  who,  moreover,  wore  a  spangled  child's  frock  over 
his  own  trowsers  and  a  pair  of  brogans.  Cora  had  re 
monstrated,  to  be  sure,  but,  as  the  child  was  a  "  pro 
perty,"  and  not  a  "  character,"  Mr.  Charles,  who  was 
at  the  head  of  this  department,  observed,  with  almost 
temper,  that  if  Mr.  Johnson  had  to  spend  his  time  mak 
ing  precipices,  and  Mr.  Henry  had  to  paint  them,  and 
plain  Johnson  had  to  study,  and  Mr.  Henry  Charles 


THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE.  19 

Johnsonhad  to  "play  the  people  in,"  and  then  «  double" 
three  parts,  he  was  not  likely  to  have  much  time  left  to 
run  round  town  getting  children !  The  protean  Mr. 
Johnson  was  really  a  very  good-natured  fellow,  and 
seldom  "let  out"  in  this  way,  above  all  against  Miss 
Fanny  Wilkins ;  but  opening  nights  are  opening  nights 
in  all  theatres,  and  this  was  his  apology  subsequently. 
There  stood  Mr.  Fitzcarol,  too,  as  Alonzo,  the  group 
forming  a  very  pleasing  example  of  the  domestic  pic 
turesque.  Mr.  Fitzcarol  was  more  like  himself  in  this 
part,  being  rid  of  his  Orozimbo  gray  whig,  beard,  &c.; 
we  say  that  he  was  more  like  himself,  without,  be  it 
understood,  having  the  slightest  reference  to  physi 
ognomy,  for  a  man  with  a  broken  nose  is  not  very  apt 
to  look  like  other  people.  Mr.  Fitz,  or  «  Figurehead," 
as  he  was  sometimes  called,  had  met  with  that  mis 
fortune,  and  it  prayed  upon  his  spirits  decidedly.  He 
no  longer  «  occupied  a  position,"  and  his  nasal  regret 
was  constantly,  «  Before  I  lost  my  nose  I  was  a  fea 
ture  /"  He  had  acted  in  «  principal  theatres ;"  had 
even  "sung  in  London!"  He  had  been  remarkable 
for  his  Roman  nose  and  fine  wardrobe  ;  was  famous  in 
all  the  singing  captains  ;  and  at  a  patriotic  song,  espe 
cially  if  he  could  draw  a  sword  in  it  between  the 
pieces,  he  was  unrivalled.  But  this  glory  was  too 
much  for  one  man.  On  the  production  of  the  Bayadere, 
in  a  provincial  theatre,  he  was,  as  the  god,  pitched  out 
of  the  car,  on  the  first  night,  breaking  his  nose,  and, 
worse  than  all,  ruining  the  run  of  the  piece.  The  star 
Bayadere,  however,  had  cause  to  be  grateful ;  it  was  to 
the  self-sacrificing  gallantry  of  her  companion  that  she 
owed  her  safety ;  he  broke  her  fall — and  his  own  nose  at 
the  same  time ;  he  preserved  the  star,  but  ceased  himself 


20  TUB   DRAMA    IN    POKEUVILLE.          ,  * 

to  be  a  «  feature !"    Everybody  has  heard  of  a  «  shock 
ing  bad  hat,"  without  being  able  to  fix  in  their  minds 
what  the  peculiarity  expressed,  or  intended  to  be  ex 
pressed,  exactly  is.    They  know  that  it  is  a  bad  hat,  but 
the  epithet  "  shocking"  neither  expresses  shape,  size, 
nor  quality.     They  only  know  that  it  is  a  strange,  sad 
object,  one  carefully  to  be  avoided  in  society ;'  and  so 
it  was  pretty  nearly  with  the  vocalist's  nose,  it  was  a 
shoclring  bad  nose !     Whether  it  was  the   flattening 
immediately  under  the  eyes,  the  crush  of  the  arch,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  sight;  or  the  spring,  from  the  ruins,  of 
the  tip— like  a  young  nose  on  its  own  account — to  the 
left,  the  general  effect  was  most  peculiar,  giving  Mr. 
Fitz's  face  a  sort  of  zig-zag  expression,  and  whether 
he  rolled  his  eyes  in  sentiment,  or  flashed  them  in  ire, 
it  was  equally  disastrous  to  the  scene,  with  the  audi- 
ance.     "  Figurehead,"  or  «  the  feature,"  had  at  length 
found  his  way  into  the  great  small  affair  theatres,  where, 
gouged  eyes  and  bitten  noses  exciting  less  admiration, 
he  got  along  with  more  tranquillity ;   being  generally 
allowed,  moreover,  to  be  »  some"  in  "  Draw  the  sword 
Scotland!"     He  had  been  rather  nervous  about  his 
deb&t,  poor  fellow,  but  he  had  shown  his  nose,  and  all 
was  right,  and  he  was  happy  !     Cora  went  on  with  her 
maternal  rhapsodies,  and,  after  all,  her  "lord's  image" 
did  bear  something  of  a  family  likeness,  for  albeit  the 
child  had  not  a  broken  nose,  yet  his  pug  was  of  a  very 
odd  pattern,  and  the  addition  of  a  squint  made  up 
something  of  the  zig-zag  expression  mentioned. 

But  now  another  roll  of  the  drum  behind  the  scenes. 
L.  II.  2d  cnt,  Three  vigorous  cheers  from  the  throats 
of  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  and  his  factotum,  the  triune  Mr. 
Johnson,  a  stentorian  command  to  station — sentinels, 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  21 

doubtless,  "  opposite  the  Spanish  camp,"  and  on  came 
Mr.  Kemble  White,  the  acknowledged  Rollo ;— sword, 
shield,  sandals,  shirt,  all  complete;  a  magnificent 
entrance,  and  to  thunders  of  applause !  Mr.  Kemble 
White  was  even  above  the  heroic  height,  but  not  quite 
up  to  the  heroic  weight,  as  established  by  the  success 
of  .Mr.  Gonz,  the  great  eastern  actor,  who  made  two 
hundred  kick  the  beam  !  Mr.  White  had  equal  advan 
tages  of  lungs,  but  could  not  exactly  reach  the  two 
feet  round  the  calf !  What  then?  Why,  as  independ 
ent  of  nature  as  a  rising  tragedian  had  a  right  to  be, 
he  «  made  himself  up !"  There  he  stood,  his  magnificent 
breadth  of  chest — padding  we  mean — heaving  and 
swelling,  and  his  unrivalled  legs  walking  into  all  the 
boatmen.  There  was  somewhat  of  a  disproportion 
noticeable,  occasionally  as  a  long  stride  was  taken, 
between  calf  and  thigh,  but  a  very  deep  voice  and 
a  deeper  frown  awed  any  thing  like  impertinent  in 
quiry. 

« Jovian!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Major  Slope,  elevating 
her  lorgnette. 

«  Jo  who  ?"  inquired  the  major,  emptying  bis  mouth 
for  a  fresh  chew. 

"The  front  of  Jove,  himself!"  continued  the  lady, 
by  way  of  making  herself  more  intelligible.  The 
major  was  not  an  enthusiastic  man,  and  simply  draw 
ing  the  back  of  his  hand  over  his  lips,  he  replenished 
his  jaw. 

The  "temple  scene!"  there  was  the  altar,  sure 
enough,  a  packing  box  set  up  on  end,  and  all  over 
rays  of  vivid  yellow,  fromaDutch  metal  sun,  right  in  the 
centre !  Mr.  Kemble  White  addressed  his  "  brave  asso 
ciates,"  whom  he  "  saw  off,"  with  an  earnestness  of 


22  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE.       % 

argument  to  convince  all  present  that  they  were  actually 
ranged  behind  the  wings ;  and  now,  to  test  the  vocal 
powers  of  the  "whole  company!"  Mr.  Oscar  Dust, 
another  «  double,"  entered  as  the  high  priest,  all  in 
white  ;  Mr.  Waters  followed  (to  oblige)  similarly  attired ; 
the  virgins  of  the  sun  were  «  seen  off" — just  behind  the 
Peruvian  army,  doubtless, — Mr.  H.  C.Johnson  made  his 
appearance  very  unaccountably  in  the  orchestra,  and 
Mr.  Oscar  Dust  began  his  Solo  !  His  gestures  were  the 
most  appropriate  in  the  world ;  his  legs,  visibly,  were 
employed  in  modulating  the  sound,  and  yet,  some  how 
or  other,  there  was  something  queer  about  it,  it  was  not 
Manager  Dust's  voice, — it  was  an  evident  nose  tone. 
There  was  great  applause,  however,  when  the  "feature" 
whose  back  had  been  turned,  abstractedly,  from  the 
audience,  observed,  with  a  deep  sigh,  to  Miss  Fanny 
Wilkins,  that  he  did  none  of  this  kind  of  humbug  before 
he  lost  his  nose!  « Doubling"  a  voice  stuck  in  his 
throat  decidedly !  The  fire  came  down  from  heaven, 
only  sticking  a  little  time,  while  the  kink  in  the  wire 
was  shaken  out ;  the  whole  effect  was  sub — pshaw,  of 
course  it  was ! 

TIIIHD  ACT. — "Hold,  recreant,  cowards,"  &c.,  a 
burst  of  indignant  remonstrance  on  the  part  of  the  proud 
Peruvian  which  made  the  roof  of  Wilson's  store-shed 
shiver,  and  which  was  only  marred  by  the  proud  Peru 
vian's  cimetry  giving  way — that  is,  he  burst  his  suspen 
ders  and  let  his  heroic  calves  down !  He  hitched  him 
self  up  behind,  though,  with  a  readiness  of  resource 
characteristic  of  genius,  and  dashed  off,  once  more, 
with  his  reassured  countrymen,  to  rescue  their  beloved 
Inca.  Mrs.  Major  Slope  declared  that  it  was  worthy 
of  the  drama  in  its  palmy  days,  and  the  editor  of  the 


23 

Palladium,  Busby  Case,  Esq.,  signified  his  intention  of 
going  it  strong  in  his  next  article. 

FOURTH  ACT. — And  still  increasing  interest.  Mr. 
Johnson  multiplied  himself  once  more  by  disguising 
in  a  bunch  of  keys  and  spear,  for  the  sentinel ;  Alonzo 
was  rescued,  Elvira  wooed  the  proud  Peruvian  to  his 
revenge.  A  change  of  scene,  and  there  lay  &  the  ac 
cursed  destroyer  of  his  qountry's  peace" — the  classic  Mr. 
Waters,  on  the  recent  altar,  now  laid  flat  and  covered 
by  a  red  domino,  the  whole  representing  a  martial 
couch!  Pizarro  was  grasped  by  the  throat,  dragged 
forward  in  a  series  of  shakes — a  heroic  tableau  was 
formed  at  the  very  feet  of  Mrs.  Major  Slope,  and  «  put 
it  into  him,  hoss !"  «  Look  out  old  coon  !"  &.C.,  testified 
to  the  ready  sensibilities  of  the  audience.  Immedi 
ately  followed  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust's  greatest  triumph,  as  it 
was  critically  termed ;  where,  her  vengeance  foiled, 
and  feelings  outraged,  she  "  jest  let  out"  as  Mrs.  Store- 
Shed  Wilson  graphically  expressed  it.  The  injured 
heroine  drew  up  a  statement  of  wrongs,  piled  on  a 
recapitulation,  and  capped  the  whole  with  a  scream 
that  not  only  made  the  hair,  but  the  entire  front  bench 
rise  right  up!  in  fact,  it  quite  "cuddled  one's  blood"— 
once  more  in  Mrs.  Store-Shed  Wilson's  graphic  and 
powerful  language.  Then  were  «  guards"  ordered  to 
"seize  thnt  frantic  woman!"  and  then  entered  that 
same — no,  not  individual  Johnson,  once  more 'with  a 
spear,  making  signs  to  the  six  others,  whom  he  saw  ojfy 
not  to  come  on,  as  he  himself,  doubtless,  would  prove 
enough  for  her,  and  then  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  marched  to 
death  in  a  grander  style  than  her  Siddons  train  and 
O'Neil  petticoat  had  ever  before  assisted  in  ;  and  then, 
amid  showers  of  tears,  and  shouts  of  applause,  a  natural 


24  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

tribute  to  the  greatest  dust  breathing,  didn't  it  seem 

almost  futile  to  expect  any  thing  further  in  the  way  of 

..grandeur?    Of  course  it  did — and  yet  the  Pokerville 

tudience  sat  there,  evidently  inclined  to  risk  it ;  and 

so,  up  went  the  curtain  for  the  fifth  Act. 

«  The  death-bridge !"  There  it  was  indeed !  The 
"peculiar  construction  of  the  house"  had  been  made 
the  most  of,  certainly.  In  one  of  the  back  corners  of 
«  Wilson's  store-shed,"  a  six-feet-square  «  office"  had 
been  partitioned  off,  now  dignified  as  the  wardrobe  and 
property  room.  A  cut  in  the  partition,  some  four  feet 
from  the  ground,  served  as  a  window,  and  the  quick 
eye  of  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  at  once  detected  the  full  advan 
tages  of  this  point.  For  instance,  in  robber  proces 
sions,  think  of  the  effect  to  be  produced  by  himself, 
Mr.  Johnson,  and  one  or  two  other  «  doubles"  winding 
down  the  mountains  out  of  this  window  ;  disappearing 
at  an  upper  entrance  ;  again  out  at  the  window ;  again 
off— keeping  the  pot  bilin',  as  the  boys  say,  and  thus 
impressing  the  audience  with  the  immense  resources  of 
the  establishment.  The  «  Forty  Thieves,"  upon  this 
hint,  was  already  underlined  to  be  produced  «  upon  a 
scale  of  unexampled  magnificence !"  The  «  peculiar 
construction"  was  of  striking  service  in  the  present 
bridge-scene,  inasmuch  as  that  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  had 
again  stuck  the  «  altar"  upon  end,  opposite  to  it, — 
stretched  a  plank  from  one  to  the  other,  faced  the  whole 
with  a  few  precipitous  "  set  pieces,"  nearly  as  high  as 
his  shoulders,  and,  to  crown  the  effect  of  the  whole, 
had  contrived  an  axle  and  crank,  by  means  of  which 
to  turn  a  flour  barrel,  ingeniously  painted  and  speckled 
with  raw  cotton  to  resemble  a  waterfall !  The  scene 
was  hailed  with  shouts ;  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  did  his  own 


THE  DRAMA  IN  POKERVILLE.  25 

turning,  vigorously  grinding,  with  one  hand,  and  as  in 
dustriously  wiping  his  brow  with  the  other ;  the  scene 
proceeded,  and  Rolla  daringly  seized  the  child,  who, 
being  rather  overgrown,  as  we  have  stated,  and  some- 
what  frightened  at  his  unceremonious  lift,  incontinently 
put  a  leg  over  each  shoulder  of  his  preserver,  and  per 
tinaciously  kept  it  there. 

«  Who  stirs  one  step,  to  follow,  dies  upon  the  spot !" 
The  proud  Peruvian  dashed  off  the  stage  to  make  his 
way  out  to  the  bridge,  through  the  properties  ;  Pizarro 
rushed  up  to  give  his  orders ;  Mr.  Johnson,  as  « the 
guards,"  leveled  his  gun.  Holla's  calves  were  dis 
covered  crossing  the  bridge — the  superior  parts  of  the 
hero  being  hid  in  the  « flies,"  the  word  was  given : 
«  Fire  upon  him" — when  a  scream  burst  from  the  foot 
lights,  and  Mrs.  Major  Slope,  dropping  her  opera-glass 
in  strong  hysterics,  and  crying  "Hold,  monsters!" 
threw  herself  between  the  fugitive  and  destruction,  just 
as  the  fatal  weapon — snapped!  The  sensation  was 
"  thrilling,"  and  sharing  the  general  astonishment,  the 
waterfall  stopped  instanter!  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  minus 
her  Siddons  train,  and  even  more  essential  portions 
of  dress  than  that,  flew  to  the  aid  of  her  friend ;  Mr. 
Oscar  Dust,  with  great  presence  of  mind,  lowered  the 
curtain  preparatory  to  stepping  in  front  of  it,  and  ask- 
ing  if  there  was  ««  a  doctor  in  the  house  ?"  Mr.  Major 
Slope,  who,  having  been  out  to  get  a  little  "peach," 
Lad  returned  just  at  the  climax,  and  whfr appeared  to 
be  "  used  to  it,"  backed  out  again  to  get  the  carnage 
ready ;  the  audience  were  in  a  stupor  of  amazement, 
when  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  once  more  appeared  to  assure 
them  that  the  paroxysm  was  passed  ; — that  there  was 
no  danger ;  that  it  had  simply  been  the  effect  of  over 

3 


26  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

wrought  feelings — the  intensity  of  the  dramatic  action, 
aided  as  it  was,  in  a  scenic  view,  by  the  peculiar  con 
struction  of  the  house !  The  last  scene,  Mr.  Dust  ob 
served,  was  yet  to  come — Mr.  Kemble  White's  great 
dying  scene,  his  truthful  delineation  of  a  death  from 
gun-shot  wounds  ;  should  the  play  proceed,  or  stop  there, 
in  sympathy  with  a  too  amiable  lady  ?  He  awaited  their 
pleasure. 

The  astonishment  had  certainly  been  great,  but  the 
sympathy  was  not  so  apparent.  «<  Bring  on  your  dead 
man !"  cried  one  sovereign  auditor.  "  Start  your  Nia 
gara  agin !"  shouted  another — both  desires  sanctioned 
on  the  part  of  the  whole  by  rounds  of  applause.  Mr. 
Oscar  Dust  bowed,  smiled,  and  retired ;  up  went  the 
curtain  again  ;  there  was  a  shouting  behind  of  "  Holla ! 
Holla!  Holla!"  and  on  came  the  hero  of  the  death- 
bridge,  drenched  in  blood  from  his  wig  to  his  waist 
band.  Mr.  Kemble  White  had  evidently  studied  the 
effect  of  having  his  brains  blown  out ;  and  first,  raising 
himself  on  one  arm,  he  pawed  the  air  touchingly  with 
the  other,  as  much  as  to  say,  « it  wasn't  you,  old  fellow !" 
Then,  dragging  himself  on  to  one  knee,  he  was  sud 
denly  seized  with  vertigo  and  described  several  circles, 
with  his  head  gradually  settling  into  a  lengthened  shake. 
Next,  after  divers  neuralgic  twitchings,  he  recovered 
his  eye-sight,  exclaimed,  "  Cora !"  and,  privileged, 
as  a  dead  man,  he  ensanguined  one  side  of  her  neck 
in  an  embrace.  Turning  now,  wanderingly,  he  per 
ceived  Alonzo,  and  shook  him  deprecatingly  by  the 
hand,  saying,  as  plainly  as  pantomime  could  say, 
"Don't  be  jealous,  you  see  my  brains  are  out!"  and 
now,  with  a  triumphant  laugh,  he  clutched  up  the 
child;  daubed  it  on  both  cheeks ;  examined  it  all  over 


THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  527 

to  see  that  its  brains  were  not  out,  also ;  and  finally, 
joining  the  hands  of  its  parents,  and  reaching  up  to  the 
«  flies"  for  a  blessing,  to  slow  music,  he  stiffened  him 
self  perpendicularly  for  a  «  back  fall ;"  balanced  him 
self  a  moment,  and  then,  dropping  his  chin  on  his 
breast,  to  save  the  back  of  his  head,  down  he  went — 
"K'chuck!"  as  an  excited  auditor  exclaimed,  in  a 
half-suppressed  tone  of  sympathy !  It  was  a  thrilling 
delineation ;  a  grand  performance ;  the  drama  was 
founded  in  Pokerville! 

In  the  mean  time,  Mrs.  Major  Slope  had  been  placed 
in  a  carriage.  The  "major  took  it  quietly ;  fortifying 
himself  with  a  fresh  f hew,  and  simply  muttering  some 
thing  about  being  married  to  a  fashionable  woman! 
off  they  went.  Mr.  Fitzcarol  now  « Marched  to  the 
Battle  Field,"  and  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins  danced  her 
Pas  de  Pokerville,  amid  yells  of  approbation;  and,  now, 
at  the  moment  of  "  ringing  up"  for  the  afterpiece,  Mr. 
Oscar  Dust  once  more  stepped  before  the  curtain.  It 
was  under  a  mingled  feeling  that  he  now  appeared  be 
fore  them ;  his  heart  was  certainly  not  deaf  to  the 
triumphant  voice  which  told  him  that  the  drama 
was  founded  in  Pokerville  ;  an  accomplished  lady, 
though,  had  suffered  from  the  too  intense  excitement ; 
and  he  also  grieved  to  say,  that  of  a  kindred  nature, 
Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  was  severely  shaken  by  the  sufferings 
of  her  friend.  She  feared,  that  in  the  afterpiece  of 
NATURE  AND  PHILOSOPHY,  or,  Is  it  a  Bird  ?  she  might 
be  not  all  herself ;  they  would  appreciate  her  feelings ; 
they  were  Americans — yes,  they  were  Pokervillians  ! 
and  Mr.  Dust  retired  'mid  a  profound  sensation. 

Colin  was  «  a  sweet  part,"  as  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  used 
to  say,  and  in  her  hands,  it  was  a  downright  lolly  pop ; 


28  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

the  young  couple  were  united,  and  the  curtain  fell, 
and  the  crowd  dispersed,  and  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  was  no 
longer  « the  observed  of  all  observers,"  seeing  that  she 
was  behind  the  shawl,  taking  her  trowsers  off;  and 
Miss  Fanny  Wilkins  was  getting  ready,  too ;  and,  at 
the  back  door,  waited  Mr.  Busby  Case,  editor  of  the 
Pokerville  Palladium,  accompanied  by  a  stranger, 
whose  three  breast-pins  and  splendid  gold  guard- 
chains  made  a  great  display  in  the  moonlight. 

Others  were  gathered  roufcd,  also,  and  presently  out 
came  a  heavy-looking  wench,  belonging  to  the  hotel, 
whistling,  with  a  very  large  basket,  and,  immediately 
after,  came  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  and  Mr.  Busby  Case  over 
whelmed  her  with  congratulations ;  and  then  he  intro 
duced  his  friend,  "  Doctor  Slunk  ;  connection  of  Mrs. 
Major  Slope's — one  of  the  first  families  of  Virginia !" 
added  he,  aside,  and  then  Doctor  Slunk  went  through 
his  congratulations,  though,  as  well  as  the  editor,  he 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  somebody  else.  Mr.  Oscar 
Dust  appeared,  and  they  were  glad  to  see  him,  too, 
but  at  this  moment  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins  stepped  forth, 
and  the  Doctor  nudged  the  editor,  when  another  figure 
showed  his  nose  in  the  moonlight;  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins 
took  his  arm,  and  away  they  went — <«  waiving  the 
compliments" — as  the  Doctor  observed,  "by  thun 
der  !" 

"My  dear  Mr.  Fitzcarol,"  said  Fanny,  as  soon  as 
they  were  out  of  hearing,  « I  have  a  request  to  make, 
which  will  put  you  to  trouble,  I  know,  but  I  may  take 
liberties  with  you,  mayn't  I  ?"  and  she  looked  up  to 
him  with  her  snug  little  face,  shining  in  the  moonlight, 
till  Mr.  Fitz  felt  his  ruined  nose  growing  right  out 
again  with  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  her ! 


THE    DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  29 

«<  Why,  of  course,  you  may,"  said  he. 

«  Then,  Mr.  Fitzcarol,  1  want  you  to  see  me  to  and 
from  the  theatre  as  long  as  we  stay  in  this  town." 

Mr.  Fitzcarol  felt  once  more  as  if  he  «  held  a  posi 
tion." 

"Miss  Fanny,"  said  he,  "you  know  that  I  am 
always  alone,  and  must  feel  happy  in  attending  on  you. 
Heigho  !"  and  his  habitual  despondency  seemed  to  be 
smit  suddenly  with  a  vein  of  facetiousness.  « If  I 
wasn't  quite  so  old,  and  only  had  my  nose,  eh  ?  ha,  ha ! 
By  the  by,  Miss  Fanny,  did  I  ever  show  you  the  litho 
graph  of  me  as  Count  Belino,  taken  while  I  was  a 
feature?" 

Miss  Fanny  promised,  soothingly,  to  look  at  it  in 
the  morning,  glancing  behind  at  the  same  time,  as  if 
afraid  of  being  overtaken.  Mr.  Fitz  said  he  didn't 
wonder  at  her  being  disgusted  with  that  deuced  old 
Mrs.  Dust,  and  so,  arriving  at  the  hotel,  they  parted. 

And  now  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins  to  her  dreams ;  Mr. 
Fitz  to  his  musings  ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dust  to  their  plans 
for  keeping  up  the  excitement ;  Mr.  Kemble  White  to 
the  sovereignty  of  the  bar-room,  and  the  "  rest  of  the 
company"  to  whoever  might  notice  them  ;  and  thus 
ended  the  first  night  of  the  season  in  Pokerville. 


THE  GREAT  POKERVILLE  PRELIMINARIES. 

Three  whole  days,  and  the  great  small  affair  com 
pany  continued  to  "  draw."  The  Palladium  was  a  semi- 
weekly,  and  this  morning  Mr.  Oscar  Dust  and  the  drama 
in  Pokerville  had  been  duly  noticed  in  two  columns. 

3* 


30  THE   DRAMA   IK    POKERVILLE, 

A  career  unexampled  in  theatrical  annals  was  "fore 
seen"  for  the  manager,  and  highly  exciting  intimations 
were  thrown  out  with  regard  to  a  «  tribute  of  genius" 
about  to  be  offered  on  the  part  of  <«  one  of  our  first 
citizens !" 

It  was  a  fine  morning,  and  Major  Slope,  accom 
panied  by  Mrs.  Major  Slope,  was  driving  into  town, 
spitting  alternately  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  horse's 
tail,  and  muttering  again  something  about  fashionable 
e-klat. 

«  That  is  my  affair,  Major"  Slope,"  rattled  the  lady. 
« If  you  won't  retain  the  lead,  I  will ;  and,,  if  you  don't 
know  how  to  entertain  artistes  of  distinction,  I  do. 
Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  has  received  the  homage  of  ever)  per 
son  of  genius  in  the  country,  as  you  may  sec  from  her 
scrap-book,  and,  if  I  have  a  characteristk,  it  is  my 
appreciation  of  genius." 

Major  Slope  told  the  horse  to  «  glong,"  and  then 
asked  «  Why  it  must  be  a  dinner?" 

«  Because,  Major,  artistes  are  always  engaged  in  the 
evening,  and  it  would  be  too  late  to  drive  out  of  town 
after  the  performance.  I  might  arrange  a  dejunior  a  la 
toohpuk,  in  the  French  style ;  but  that  again  would 
interfere  with  the  rehearsals.  If  I  have  a  characteris 
tic,  it  is  in  obviating  difficulties,  and  it  must  be  a 
dinner." 

«  For  the  whole  crowd  ?"  demanded  the  major. 

"  That's  just  what  Pm  driving  into  town  to  consult 
Mrs.  Dust  about.  Mr.  Henry  Charles  Johnson,  per 
haps,  may  be  well  enough  ;  he  has  a  musical  reputa 
tion  ;  but  the  number  of  subordinates — besides,  I  have 
a  few  questions  to  ask  respecting  Miss  Wilkins." 

«  Um,"  grunted  the  major,  «  you'd  better  ask  them 


THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  31 

of  your  cousin,  Dr.  Slunk ;  he  is  tolerably  well  ac 
quainted  with  her,  people  think." 

«  That's  it" — but  let  us  drive  on  to  the  hotel,  as  the 
major  did ;  go  up  stairs,  as  his  wife  did,  and  find  Mrs. 
Oscar  Dust  taking  a  wine  julep,  as,  in  summer,  she 
always  did. 

•  «  My  dear  Mrs.  Dust ;  so  like  me  in  every  thing !" 
And  the  ladies  expressed  their  mutual  sympathy  by 
sharing  their  straw.  They  were  not  long  either  in 
making  full  arrangements  with  regard  to  the  contem 
plated  « testimonial."  The  occasion,  of  course,  was 
to  be  in  compliment  to  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  «  characteristic"  of  the  tasteful  hospitality 
of  Mrs.  Major  Slope — both  points  to  be  fully  attended 
to  in  the  Palladium.  Mr.  Kemble  White,  from  his 
"  position,"  might  certainly  be  invited,  and  Mrs.  Oscar 
Dust  even  suggested  the  name  of  «  poor  old  Waters." 
He  had  known  her  through  her  whole  career,  and  was 
nn  obliging  creature — all  of  which  simply  meant  that, 
patronizing  the  «  classic  veteran,"  whenever  Mrs.  Oscar 
Dust  told  a  stretcher,  he  was  expected  to  swear  to  it. 
As  to  Mr.  H.  C.  Johnson,  the  leader,  he  certainly  was 
an  inimitable  « .90/0"  player,  (as  he  ought  to  be,  see 
ing  that  he  never  played  any  thing  else,)  and  Mrs. 
Major  Slope  might  exercise  her  discretion  with  regard 
to  Mr.  Fitzcarol — really,  a  very  harmless  creature. 
Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  saw  nothing  to  stand  in  his  way,  if 
his  nose  didn't,  and  that  didn't  stand  in  any  way, 
heaven  knows ! 

But  Mrs.  Oscar  Last  had  said  nothing  about  Miss 
Fanny  Wilkins,  and  so  Mrs.  Major  Slope  "Aem'c/," 
and  observed  that  Dr.  Slunk  would  expect  to  be  there, 
of  course,  on  which  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  "Aaw'd,"  evi- 


3£  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

dently  in  very  great  distress,  and  then  she  thought  a 
moment,  with  her  head  down ;  and  then  she  looked, 
with  a  troubled  expression,  at  the  wall ;  and  next,  with 
even  a  more  intense  expression,  into  the  looking-glass, 
and  her  emotion  confirmed,  as  it  were,  by  this  last 
glance,  she  threw  her  eyes,  appeajingly,  full  upon  Mrs. 
Major  Slope,  and  exclaimed  with  touching  abandon-* 

«  You  know  the  misfortune  of  our  profession. " 

Mrs.  Major  Slope's  worst  fears  were  confirmed. 
There  was  a  painful  embarrassment  for  at  least  several 
seconds — especially  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust. 
Mrs.  Major  Slope  first  broke  silence  with  a  sigh. 

"So  modest  in  her  appearance,  too  !" 

« I  have  been  much  deceived !"  said  Mrs.  Oscar 
Dust,  drawing  in  her  breath  and  shuddering,  as  if  at  a 
sudden  change  of  the  moral  temperature. 

«  So  really  good-looking  /"  observed  Mrs.  Major  S. 

«  Her  manner  is  superior,"  said  Mrs.  Oscar,  hypo 
critically  ;  «  I  had  taken  great  pains  with  her." 

«  And  then  so  talented — and  such  a  favorite  /"  ding- 
dong'd  Mrs.  Major.  The  manageress  and  "leading 
lady"  moved  uneasily  on  her  chair,  as  if  these  regrets 
were  not  exactly  of  the  right  key,  and  then,  by  way 
of  attracting  some  of  the  interest  to  herself,  she  burst 
into  tears,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  heart-wringing  tone, 

"  What  she  might  have  been !" 

Her  suffering  was  too  real — too  keen — not  at  once 
to  make  her  the  object  of  first  attention  ;  and  Mrs. 
Major  Slope,  essentially  kind-hearted  with  all  her  fuss, 
consoled  her  not  only  "  like  a  sister,"  but  like  a  whole 
family.  At  this  moment  a  heavy  tramp  and  a  loud 
whistling  was  heard  in  the  passage,  and  immediately 
entered  the  enormous  wench  mentioned  as  carrying  the 


THE  DRAMA  IN   POKERVILLE.  33 

basket.  She  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room  before  she 
finished  her  tune,  and  she  bore  across  her  arm  a  suit 
of  cotton  "fleshings"  belonging  to  Mr.  Oscar  Dust, 
new  washed. 

«  My  ole  Missy,"  said  she,  «  Massa  Dus'  nebber  git 
dis  yer  skin,  on  agin,  sure  ;  he  done  rubbed  his  bones 
clean  through,"  and  she  ran  her  hand  through  divers 
abrasions  in  an  unmentionable  part  of  the  said  skin. 

«  Lay  them  aside,  Cynthia,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Oscar, 
«  Mr.  Dust  will  wear  his  silks"  and  then  she  added, 
in  a  low  voice,  to  Mrs.  Major,  «  That  is  the  letter- 
bearer  !" 

Cynthia  had  not  much  the  appearance  of  a  carrier- 
pigeon,  however  she  might  whistle  like  a  mocking 
bird  ;  but  Mrs.  Major  Slope  eyed  her  as  if  she  expected 
to  detect  a  billet  tied  with  blue  riband  under  each 
pinion ;  then,  recalled  by  Mrs.  Oscar's  growing  dis 
tress,  she  resumed  her  attentions,  and,  soothingly,  sent 
Cynthia  for  another  julep. 

"  Yes,  the  letter-carrier  /"  repeated  Mrs.  Dust,  as 
soon  as  the  wench  was  gone ;  "  she  bore  one  from  the 
doctor  to  Miss  Wilkins  the  day  after  her  arrival,  and 
several  since — I  bribed  her  to  confess  it ;  and  that  Dr. 
Slunk  is  also  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  this  passage- 
here,  near  we,  Mrs.  Major !  His  object " 

Mrs.  Dust  was  again  overpowered  by  her  feelings; 
but  came  the  tramp  and  whistle,  and  next  the  julep, 
and  gradually  she  subsided  from  the  hysteric  to  the 
tender  melancholic,  and  entered  into  a  deeply  touch 
ing  narrative  of  her  own  early  triumphs  over  tempta 
tion.  «  Poor  old  Waters  knew  it  all !" 

«  The  cry  was,  as  you  say,  that  I  was  so  talented^ 
and  such  a  favorite  !  a  thousand  wild  idolatries  were 


34  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

offered  to  me.  Young  Shucks,  son  of  the  governor — 
since  in  Congress — immense  estate — sought  to  prevail 
with  maiden  passion ;  but  I  hold  that  every  virtuous 
woman  has  her  angel,  Mrs.  Major.  I  was  impregnable  ! 
He  offered  private  marriage ;  but  I,  too,  had  a  pride. 
Never  will  Waters  forget  my  answer !  <  Henry,'  said 
I,  <  if  wealth  were  mine,  how  gladly  would  I  share  it 
with  you ;  but  never  shall  the  Shucks  reproach  you 
with  wedding  one  whose  sole  misfortune  was  in  being 
friendless  !'  I  was  then  but  her  age,  Mrs.  Slope." 

It  was  indeed  a  surprising  speech  for  only  eighteen ! 
and  deserving  of  this  admiration  thirty  years  after 
wards.  And,  now,  it  might  as  well  be  mentioned,  in 
explanation  of  the  deep  grief  and  guardian-like  anxiety 
which  this  elderly  lady  felt  with  regard  to  Miss  Fanny 
Wilkins,  that,  in  tlie  last  town  of  Coonsborough,  a 
violent  paper  war  had  been  carried  on  between  two 
critics  as  to  the  merits  of  these  two  public  favorites. 
Miss  Fanny  Wilkins  had,  hitherto,  been  a  mere  «  no 
body,"  and,  all  of  a  sudden,  to  find  her  raised  up  as  a 
rival — praised  for  her  grace  and  beauty,  and  applauded 
to  the  echo  for  her  spirit ;  nay,  more,  to  hear  demands 
made  for  her  appearance  in  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust's  favorite 
youthful  part,  and,  these  refused,  to  see  herself  and 
benefit  neglected  by  a  public  that  had  for  years  drawn, 
as  it  were,  her  triumphant  car,  while  the  performances 
and  benefit  of  Miss  Wilkins  were  crowned  wilh  the  most 
daz/ling  success.  All  this  was  too  much  for  the  time- 
worn  charities  of  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust.  «  Position" — ma^ 
nagement — nothing  could  stand  against  it.  She  already 
detected  unpleasant  symptoms  in  Pokerville,  notwith 
standing  Mrs.  D.  controlled  the  Palladium,  and  here 
a  chance  to  stem  the  torrent.  All  she  had  to  do 


THE  DRAMA    IN   POKERVILLE.  35 

was  to  be  unwillingly  convinced  of  all  she  heard,  and 
to  look  very  grave  whenever  Dr.  Slunk  was  mentioned. 
This  dashing  gentleman  stopped  at  nothing,  as  every 
body  knew,  and,  to  say  the  least,  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins 
was  acting  very  strangely ! 

It  was  hardly  known,  indeed  not  very  often  inquired, 
where  Dr.  Slunk  had  got  his  diploma.  He  might,  cer 
tainly,  have  been  one  of  the  six  hundred  young  gen 
tlemen  who,  on  some  former  years,  had  been  duly  au 
thorized  to  direct  the  weeding  of  a  too  luxuriant  popu 
lation  ;  but  it  was  a  mere  formality,  "  any  how.'*  One 
thing  was  sufficiently  known :  that  Dr.  Slunk  was  «  death 
on  poker,"  and,  as  he  would  occasionally  undertake  to 
physic  niggers  by  the  whole  plantation — ihat  is,  con 
tract  for  so  many  pounds  of  calomel  the  season — he 
was  probably  death  at  that,  too.  At  any  rate,  he  be 
longed  to  "  one  of  the  first  families  in  Virginia,"  was  "  a 
perfect  gentleman  when  he  was  sober,"  and,  altogether 
the  "  big  dog"  at  Pokerville. 

«<  No !"  said  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  as  she  gratefully  ac 
cepted  the  straw  from  Mrs.  Major.  "  No — a  hallowed 
passion,  rny  dear  friend — open  as  the  d  ly  ;  no  bribing 
menials ;  no  sncaldng  through  the  passage ;"  and,  if 
Dr,  Slunk  had  been  caught  in  the  act,  and  dismissed 
with  a  kettle  tied  to  his  tail,  the  pained,  but  indignant, 
speaker  could  not  more  forcibly  have  expressed  her 
loathing  at  such  doings. 

"And  have  you  seen  any  thing?"  asked  Mrs. 
Major. 

«/,  my  dear!  would  I  see  it — could  I  see  it,  Mrs. 
Slope?"  The  probability  is  that  she  could  not  have  seen 
it ;  but  the  appeal  was  a  clincher  the  other  way  :  they 
would  endeavour  to  rescue  the  lost  girl,  but  no  contact 


36  THE   DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE. 

beyond  that.  The  consideration  of  <<  the  dinner"  was 
resumed,  and,  in  the  midst  of  it,  entered  Mr.  Busby 
Case  and  Dr.  Slunk. 

Mr.  Busby  Case  was  at  once  a  large  editor  and  a 
«  small  lawyer,"  with  a  broad  head  and  narrow  wit, 
seedy  coat  and  sharp  look.  Dr.  Slunk  had  a  fat  nose, 
bloodshot-eyes,  and  whiskers  almost  as  heavy  as  his 
figure,  which  latter  was  relieved,  however,  by  bright 
buttons,  and  the  display  of  jewelry  mentioned  hereto 
fore.  The  ladies  were  exceedingly  « taken  back  ;" 
but  they  came  forward  again,  and  the  «  new  piece  in 
rehearsal"  naturally  led  to  the  dinner  in  preparation. 

"Comes  ofl'at  Major's, eh?"  said  the  doctor.  " Little 
Wilkins  '11  be  there,  of  course ;  let's  have  something 
young  about,  you  know."  Now,  this  was  accom 
panied  by  a  look  which  sufficiently  spoke  that  the  doc 
tor  was  aware  of  all  Mrs.  Dust's  anxiety  on  his  behalf. 

« It  really  ought  to  be  a  public  occasion,"  inter 
rupted  Mr.  Case.  «  Fill  the  whole  of  first  page  and 
immortalize  the  taste  of  the  town,  Mrs.  Dust." 

"Be  nothing  like  it  till  little  Wilkins's  benefit," 
chimed  in  Dr.  Slunk,  again  giving  Mrs.  D.  a  look. 
At  this  moment,  in  shuffled  Mr.  Oscar  Dust,  and  his 
ineffable  delight  at  seeing  Mrs.  Major  Slope  was  only 
damped  by  the  fact  that  Major  Slope  never  liad  yet 
looked  in  upon  them  ;  and  he  was  very  glad  to  see 
Dr.  Slunk,  too,  within  their  own  apartments  (?) ;  and  he 
had  been  down  to  the  printing-office  to  attend  to  a 
little  matter,  but  he  had  found  the  boy,  and  it  was  all 
right ;  and  now  that  they  were  there,  mightn't  he  ring 
for  something  ? — meaning  sing  out  for  the  nigger.  And, 
in  the  midst  of  all  this,  Mrs.  Major  Slope  took  her  de 
parture,  first  embracing  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  affectionately, 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  37 

and  exchanging  with  her  looks  of  caution  and  com 
miseration  ;  and  then  the  gentlemen  did  «  take  some 
thing,"  and  afterwards  the)  took  their  hots,  and, 
finally,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  were  left  alone  to  a 
confab.  '  ' 

«  Mr.  Dust,"  said  the  lady,  very  haughtily,  "  unless 
you  wish  to  ruin  every  thing,  you  will  discharge  Miss 
Wilkins." 

Mr.  Dust  had  heard  of  the  scandal,  of  course;  but 
he  was  used  to  evil  tongues,  and  now  his  thoughts^ 
naturally  regarding  ruin  as  olily  being  connected  with 
the  receipts,  he  replied — 

«  Pooh,  nonsense,  my  dear;  I  tell  you  it  helps  the 
houses." 

«  Mr.  Dust ! — and  do  you  suppose  that  /  will  lend 
myself  to  this  ?" 

« Why,  Mrs.  D.,  I'm  sure  you  ought.  You  can 
divide  the  matter  between  you,  and  there's  enough  for 
both  ?" 

«  Mr.  Dust !  would  you  have  me  forget  .that  I  am 
your  wife  ?" 

«  No,  ma'am  ;  but  you  would  have  me  forget  that  I 
am  your  manager.  I  tell  you  once  more,  it  helps  the 
business." 

Mrs.  Dust,  perhaps,  would  have  been  wholly  indig 
nant,  if  she  wasn't  naturally  bound  to  be  first  asto 
nished. 

"  What !"  cried  she,  after  a  stare,  «  would  you 
make  the  theatre  a  temple  of  shame,  and  offer  up  your 
very  wife  upon  the  altar  of  infamy  ?" 

If  Mrs.  Dust  had  had  the  chance  of  that  speech  be 
fore  a  good  house,  she  would  have  been  allowed  to 
have  surpassed  even  her  grandest  efforts ! 

4 


38  THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE. 

«  Why,  what  on  earth  are  you  talking  about  ?"  said 
Mr.  Dust. 

"Miss  Wilkins  and  Doctor  Slunk !"  cried  his  lady. 

«  My  God !  my  dear,  I  thought  you  were  at  the  old 
fuss,  about  dividing  the  parts  with  Fanny. " 

«  Let  her  take  them  fl//,  sir,  since  you  thus  regard 
it;"  and  Mrs.  Dust  walked  grandly  up  to  the  very 
small-sized  looking-glass,  to  be  satisfied  that  for  a 
woman  of  her  simply  matured  attractions,  she  was  the 
most  slighted  feminine  in  the.  world. 

Mr.  Dust  was  an  assiduous  pacificator  when  he  could 
not  be  an  assured  despot,  and  he  promised  Mrs.  D. 
that  Miss  Wilkins  should  not  be  re-engaged  for  another 
season.  As  to  the  present  scandal,  he  believed  it  was 
all  started  by  Doctor  Slunk  himself,  and  at  any  rate,  he 
wished  his  scrupulous  spouse  to  take  things  quietly, 
give  up  a  part,  occasionally,  and  she  should  have  all 
the  puffing  in  the  paper.  « It  tells  abroad,  you  know, 
my  dear,"  said  he,  "  and  that's  all  we  want  it  for." 

And  now  the  indefatigable  Mr.  Dust  went  to  work, 
quill  and  foolscap,  to  make  the  most  out  of  the  dinner. 
In  the  first  place,  there  must  be  a  correspondence  be 
tween  Major  Slope  and  himself, — it  couldn't  be  carried 
on  in  the  name  of  ladies — and  therefore,  in  a  vein  of 
rapt  enthusiasm  he  sat  down  to  write  himself  a  letter. 
He  told  himself  that,  without  flattery,  looking  upon 
his  visit  to  Pokerville  as  the  most  auspicious  event 
which  had  happened  since  the  dawn  of  civilization  in 
that  favoured  region  ;  that  regarding  the  stage,  and  Mrs. 
Oscar  Dust,  as  highly  calculated  to  "  raise  the  manners 
and  refine  the  heart;"  and  that,  moreover,  looking 
upon  Pokerville  as  the  future  centre  of  such  a  com 
merce,  trade,  and  business  as  the  world  had  never  yet 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  39 

beheld,  and  knowing  it  eager,  even  now,  to  show  more 
haughty  cities  (this  was  into  Coons-borough)  that  it  had 
a  heart  for  hospitality  and  a  soul  for  genius, — he,  on 
behalf  of  a  number  of  citizens  of  taste  and  respecta 
bility,  took  the  liberty  of  inviting  himself  and  Mrs. 
Oscar  Dust,  with  others,  to  an  entertainment  to  be 
given  on  the  ensuing  Saturday,  at  his  mansion,  Mount 
Hyacinthe,  near  Pokerville. 

Immediately,  then,  addressing  himself  at  Mount 
Hyacinthe,  near  Pokerville,  he  told  himself,  ingenu 
ously,  that  this  was  the  proudest  moment  of  his  life ;  that 
overwhelmed  as  he  had  often  been  by  the  too  partial 
kindness  of  others,  he  would  say,  neighbour  cities,  (coals 
of  fire  on  Coons-borough  again,)  no  instance  of  appre 
ciation,  including  as  it  so  chivalrously  did,  the  hum 
ble  but  assiduous  talents  of  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  had  ever 
so  touched  his  heart  with  gratitude,  his  soul  with  the 
desire  to  deserve.  He  told  himself,  moreover,  that 
through  his  whole  theatrical  career,  his  sole  aim  had 
been  to  elevate  the  stage  ;  to  make  it  a  fitting  platform 
for  the  tread  of  Shakspeare!  and  he  needed  hardly 
remind  himself,  that,  in  this  arduous  but  glorious 
effort  he  had  been  aided  by  one — he  might  pardon 
himself  the  emotion — whose  toils  would  be  remem 
bered  perhaps  by  others  than  himself.  He  accepted 
then,  with  lively  pleasure,  the  invitation  he  had  so 
kindly  extended  to  himself  and  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  and 
he  would  meet  himself  and  his  friends  at  Mount  Hya 
cinthe  on  the  ensuing  Saturday. 

"  There,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Oscar  Dust,  «  we'll 
have  the  correspondence,  followed  by  a  full  report  of 
the  banquet,  in  Monday's  Palladium.  Put  up  your 
benefit  for  that  night,  and  if  you  don't  have  a 


40  THE  DRAMA  IN   POKERVILLE. 

smasher,  with  at  least  six  wreaths,  say  I  don't  under 
stand  managing  the  Great  Small  Affair  Theatres,  that's 
all." 

*  The  carrier  pigeon  was  now  heard  whistling  in  the 
passage,  accompanying  herself  on  the  dinner  bell ;  Mrs. 
Oscar  Dust  threw  a  light  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  with 
a  "Sidonian"  majesty  of  action,  and  Mr.  D.  hurried  a 
step  or  two  in  advance  to  make  the  most  of  her  dining- 
hall  entrance. 


THE  GREAT  SMALL  AFFAIR  MYSTERY. 

Miss  FANNY  WILKINS  was  acting  strangely ;  the 
truth  might  as  well  be  told,  at  once.  She  neglected 
rehearsals  in  a  most  cavalier  manner ;  never  came  to 
table ;  used  to  keep  her  door  locked  eternally,  and  as 
Doctor  Slunk  was  met,  more  than  once,  in  the  narrow 
passage  on  which  it  opened,  there  was  but  one  infer 
ence  to  be  drawn,  namely,  that  as  the  door  had  two 
sides  to  it,  the  Dr.  was  a  man  to  select  the  more  so 
ciable  of  them.  To  be  sure,  Mr.  Fitzcarol  saw  her  to 
and  from  the  theatre  in  the  evenings,  and  mornings 
also,  whenever  she  went,  but  wasn't  it  the  plainest 
thing  in  the  world  that  this  was  all  art ;  a  phiz-bat 
tered,  soft-headed,  gizzard-tickled  old  die-away,  he 
knew  no  better;  he  was  even  unconscious  that  he  was 
the  quiz  of  the  town,  and  that  the  tremendous  applause 
which  he  received  at  night  for  every  song,  and  even 
every  speech,  was  due  entirely  to  the  popular  appre 
ciation  of  his  good-natured  gallantry.  Catch  Mr. 
Kerable  White  making  such  a  « pump"  of  himself. 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKER  VILLE.  41 

He  ratber,  on  the  contrary,  affected  the  mode  Slunk ; 
mounting  extra  brcnst-pins,  sticking  his  thumbs  in  the 
arm-holes  of  his  vest,  his  hat  thrown  back,  his  heels 
thrown  forward,  &c.  He  "  never  troubled  himself 
about  the  women-matters  in  the  theatre."  As  to  Mr. 
Busby  Case,  he  had  entirely  yielded  the  track  to  his 
formidable  rival.  In  the  mean  time,  these  improper 
proceedings  on  the  part  of  Miss  Wilkins  brought  their 
own  punishment,  as  they  always  do,  and  she  was  evi 
dently  neither  well  nor  happy ;  her  acting  and  dancing 
— particularly  the  latter — was  applauded  by  the  men, 
but  there  was  much  talk  in  the  church-going  circles.  A 
great  many  of  the  ladies  began  to  decline  going,  and 
those  who  did  go  used  to  say,  «<  What  a  pity!" 

«  You're  not  invited !"  said  Mr.  Fitz  to  Miss  Fanny, 
the  night  before  the  banquet,  as  he  was  seeing  her  home 
from  the  theatre.  "  Why,  I  thought  we  were  all  in 
vited  !" 

«  All  but  me,  I  have  been  told,"  said  Miss  Fanny. 

«  Why,  gracious  Heaven,  Miss  Fanny,  a  lady  of  your 
position !"  The  mystery  of  this  extraordinary  slight 
completely  enveloped  the  faculties  of  the  "  firs>;  singer." 
At  length,  as  if  a  distant  ray  had  served  to  render 
darkness  visible,  he  exclaimed : 

« I  shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if  Mrs.  Dust  has 
been  saying  something  about  you  !  Do  you  know,  that 
I've  often  thought  that  she's  never  liked  you  since  your 
Coons-borough  benefit  ?" 

«  We  shall  soon  part,  I  hope,"  said  Fanny. 

«  But,  dear  me !  won't  it  seem  very  strange  ?  Why, 
it's  a  cruel  affront !"  cried  the  vocalist,  his  voice  sud 
denly  becoming  round,  and  his  nostrils — would  it  had 
been  his  nose — dilating. 

4* 


42  THE    DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

.  «  You  shall  not  be  the  only  member  of  the  company 
absent,  Miss  Fanny  ;  I  should  blush  while  sitting  with 
them ;  and  so  should  all  the  rest  of  us,  I'm  sure  I" 

Could  it  be  possible,  Fanny  was  positively  weeping! 
and  when  her  companion  perceived  it,  he  was  seized 
with  a  sort  of  choking  himself,  which  he  attempted  to 

conceal  by  giving  his nose  a  violent  blow,  and, 

altogether,  he  acted  little  other  than  «  spoony,"  as  the 
saying  is.  Fanny,  at  length,  dried  her  eyes  and  threw 
herself  back  on  her  pride  ;  whatever  she  was,  she  was 
no  groveller. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Fitzcarol,  and  I  shall  be 
grateful  to  you  as  long  as  I  live,  but  you  must  not 
stay  away  on  my  account,  I  would  rather  you  would 
not." 

"Miss  Wilkins,"  said  her  companion,  and  his  tone 
grew  actually  musical  with  emotion,  «  I  could  not  feel 
like  a  gentleman  at  their  table ;  on  my  own  account  I 
shall  avoid  their  company." 

Fanny's  heart  throbbed,  and  her  color  mantled,  as  if 
she  had  heard  in  those  tones  the  challenge  of  her 
champion  knight ;  but  she  looked  in  his  face,  and  albeit 
she  saw  an  earnest  glance  from  the  eyes,  yet,  owing 
to  the  zig-zag  expression  mentioned  heretofore,  it  was 
impossible  to  tell  the  precise  direction  of  it,  and  the 
effect  was  marred  proportionately. 

"  But  you  will  not  mention  me  in  connection  with 
your  declining?"  said  Fanny,  anxiously. 

«  Why,  how  could  I,  Miss  Fanny ;  contempt  don't 
enter  into  explanations !" 

Again  Fanny  looked  up,  and  then  it  crossed  her 
mind  that  poor  Fitzcarol — good-natured  fellow — might 
have  retained  a  more  heroic  nose,  had  he  possessed  a 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  43 

less  generous  heart :  she  remembered  the  nature  of  the 
accident  which  had  disfigured  him. 

A  few  moments  brought  them  to  the  steps  of  the 
hotel,  when  Cynthia,  suddenly  stopping  her  flagiolet 
practice,  whispered  hurriedly  to  Fanny,  who  thereupon 
bade  her  escort  adieu,  and  ran  up-stairs,  very  myste 
riously. 


THE  GREAT  POKERVILLE  RE-UNION. 

NOT  the  least  of  Mrs.  Major  Slope's  triumph,  con 
nected  with  the  present  occasion,  was  the  complete  over 
throw  and  subjugation  of  Mrs.  Wilson  of  «  store-shed" 
pretension.  Feeling  that,  from  the  position  which  she  had 
achieved  in  Pokerville  society,  she  could  afford  to  ven 
ture  an  advance  without  danger  of  compromising  herself, 
she  no  sooner  had  secured  the  Great  Small  Affair  dinner 
against  failure,  than  she,  like  a  good  soul  as  well  as 
an  able  tactician,  made  a  call  upon  her  less  genius-gifted 
rival,  explained  her  plans,  dexterously  requested  advice, 
and  secured  a  faithful  second  fiddle  for  ever  afterwards, 
by  insisting  that  her  friend,  Mrs.  Wilson,  should  join 
with  her  at  once  in  making  preparations  for  the  fete  ! 
There  was  Pokerville  generalship.  Mrs.  Major  Slope, 
by  a  single  manoeuvre,  not  only  secured  the  eclat  and 
the  fruits  of  victory,  but  bound  her  rival  to  her  car,  a 
three-fold  captive,  in  that  she  fancied  herself  an  ally. 

And  this  was  the  very  day,  and  a  lovely  one  it  was, 
and  emulous  as  it  were  of  propitious  nature,  Mr.  Wil 
son's  boat — he  owned  a  steamboat  as  well  as  the  store- 
shed — arrived,  having  made  a  «  bully  trip,"  and  bring 
ing  with  her  as  usual  Mr.  Tom  Sky,  her  «  dandy  clerk," 


44  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

the  only  human  who  had  yet  ventured  to  walk  Poker- 
ville  with  yellow  kids  on. 

A  decided  show  of  anxiety  might  have  been  de 
tected  about  town,  if  people  had  looked  closely,  and 
there  was  a  lively  sensation  pervading  the  "  first  fami 
lies,''  each  house  having  two  or  three  penitent-looking 
females,  wandering  from  room  to  room,  all  in  white 
with  powder  on  their  faces,  and  their  hair  streaming 
over  their  shoulders,  preparatory  to  its  being  "  done 
up."  People,  too,  would  stop  each  other  hurriedly  in 
the  street,  and  ask  each  other,  "  when  they  were  going 
out  ?"  while  at  the  billiard-room  and  the  bar-rooms  of 
the  principal  hotel,  the  whole  matter,  from  the  uncom 
monly  late  hour  of  sitting  down,  three  o'clock,  to  the 
probability  as  to  who  would  rise  sober,  was  under  ac 
tive  discussion.  Matters  at  the  theatre  were  despatched 
in  short  order,  as  may  be  supposed,  «  old  pieces"  were 
<  <  put  up,"  so  as  not  to  embarrass  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  through 
the  day  with  her  evening  responsibilities  ;  Mr.  Oscar 
was  already  half  through  a  report  of  the  proceedings 
as  they  were  to  take  place ;  and  Mr.  Kemble  White,  in 
white  cotton  gloves,  was  impressing  upon  Mr.  Waters 
and  Mr.  Johnson  the  importance  of  "  mingling  in 
society,"  strengthening  his  arguments  at  the  same  time 
•with  an  irresistible  odour  of  cologne.  As  to  Miss 
Fanny  Wilkins,  she  was,  doubtless,  locked  in  her  room, 
as  usual ;  and  as  to  Mr.  Fitzcarol,  he  was  wherever  his 
humour  happened  to  call  him. 

1  P.  M.,  at  Mount  Hyacinthe.  The  affair  was  to  be 
unique  in  nil  its  details,  and  the  guests  had  been  re 
quested  to  assemble  early  to  a  lunch  and  fine  language, 
and  sure  as  a  gun,  not  one  of  the  regulars  was  behind- 


THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE.  45 

hand!  "Both  rooms"  had  been  prepared;  two  extra 
busts  of  La  Fayette  (not  a  Shakspeare  in  all  Poker- 
ville)  being  added  to  the  sculpture^  three  highly  coloured 
"American  naval  victories,"  completing  the  walls,  and 
a  perfect  arabesque  of  blue  and  yellow  fly-paper  netting 
finishing  off  the  ceiling.  Then,  of  course,  on  side-tables 
were  vases  of  artificial  flowers,  infinitely  to  be  pre 
ferred  to  the  natural  ones  without ;  the  piano,  with  all 
Mrs,  Wilson's,  as  well  as  all  Mrs.  Major  Slope's  music, 
stood  open  at  one  end,  and  a  groaning  "  centre  table," 
proudly  exhibiting  the  collected  annuals  of  the  town, 
crowned  by  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust's  own  scrap-book,  stood 
in  its  becoming  place. 

Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  f  course,  had  not  been  the  first  to 
arrive,  and  of  course  no  grandeur  had  come  off*  before 
that  interesting  moment ;  besides,  as  everybody  had 
fixed  in  their  minds  upon  something  remarkably  clever, 
which  they  were  to  do  impromptu,  everybody  felt  a 
sort  of  impending  responsibility  ;  there  was  a  general 
oir-preoccupt:,  as  we  say  in  Dunkirk.  Mr.  Kemble 
"White  was  not  an  exception  ;  Doctor  Slunk  had  not 
yet  arrived,  to  ask  him  to  «  fire  up,"  and  though  he 
had  looked  for  better  things  at  the  hands  of  his  white 
cottons,  it  was  not  long  before  he  painfully  found  that 
they  added  to  his  embarrassment.  He  finally  devoted 
himself  to  the  exclusive  patronage  of  Mr.  II.  C.  John 
son,  on  the  back  «  stoop." 

" There's  the  Dusts!"  and,  sure  enough,  there  they 
came,  in  a  cloud  of  it — as  also  in  Mrs.  Major  Slope's 
own  carriage.  There  was  a  rush,  of  course,  on  the 
part  of  the  ladies,  to  the  piazza,  from  which  Mrs.  Ma 
jor  Slope  and  Mrs.  Wilson  descended  to  the  gate. 
Mrs.  Major  Slope's  new  Irish  gardener,  as  footman, 


46  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

lowered  the  steps,  when  out  popped  Mr.  Manager  Dust, 
bowing  with  great  dexterity  to  the  ladies,  without  for 
getting,  at  the  same  time,  to  exhibit  an  affectionate 
anxiety  for  the  connubial  treasure  in  the  vehicle.  The 
•classic  veteran,  Mr.  Waters,  came  next — Mrs.  Oscar 
insisted  that  he  should  ride  with  her,  "like  a  good 
creature,"  and  had  availed  herself  of  the  time  to  recall 
to  his  mind,  inadvertently,  such  of  her  favourite 
stretcJieSy  as  might  perhaps  require  testimony,  during 
the  banquet.  Now  came  the  queen  of  the  occasion,  in 
red  velvet,  rather  unseasonable,  but  then  it  had  been  sent 
over  to  her  by  «  Kitty  Stephens — now  Countess  of  Es 
sex  ;  it  was  one  of  the  Victoria  coronation  dresses ; 
and  Waters  knew  that  Mrs.  Oscar  had  never  worn  it, 
except  on  similar  complimentary  occasions!  Mrs. 
Oscar  Dust  descended,  we  say,  and  with  a  dignified 
she  kissed  the  two  fair  gate-keepers,  and 
they  kissed  her,  and  then  they  together  ascended  the 
piazza,  Mr.  Dust  and  the  veteran  following,  and  Cyn 
thia,  who  had  been  borrowed  from  the  hotel,  for  gran 
deur,  bringing  up  the  rear. 

The  "  lunch"  and  dining-rooms  occupied  the  other 
half  of  the  ground  floor  at  Mount  Hyacinthe,  for  the 
mansion  was  a  "  double"  one,  and  it  hadn't  taken 
long  to  move  the  beds  ;  and  the  ladies  had  all  taken 
some  julep,  and  the  gentlemen  had  all  taken  it 
« plain,"  and  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  they  were 
all  in  the  midst  of  a  morning  sworry,  as  Mrs.  Wilson 
had  it. 

There  were  the  «  Bagly  Gals  ;"  Miss  Mirny  Hunter, 
of  a  decided  literary  taste,  receiving  the  Vinaigrette, 
published  at  the  east,  regularly  every  month  ; — all  the 
«  Davis'  crowd,"  including  the  grandmother,  who  had 


THE   DRAMA    IK    POKEHVILJLE.  47 

danced  with  General  Washington ! — the  Smiths,  down 
from  the  saw-mill,  and  the  Browns,  up  from  the 
landing,  &c.  &c.  Then  there  was  the  Honourable 
Jackson  Spence,  postmaster ;  General  Bung  of  the  ho 
tel,  Judge  Plug,  Major  Slug,  Colonel  Mug,  &c.  &c., 
and  Mr.  Busby  Case,  Esq.,  of  course.  In  the  way  of 
art,  there  was  Mr.  Shade,  who  was  now  engaged  upon 
a  full  length  portrait  of  Mrs.  Major  Slope  ;  Quills,  of 
the  book  and  fancy  store,  who  played  the  guitar ;  and 
young  Mr.  Jake  Bagly,  who  had  been  turned  away 
from  West  Point  for  slitting  General  Jackson's  mouth, 
(pictorial,)  and  sticking  a  cigar  in  it !  This  ingenious 
youth  had  very  long  legs,  a  stork  neck,  a  bowie  knife 
sticking  out  at  his  vest,  and  a  very  lively  tint  of  to 
bacco  embellishing  each  corner  of  his  mouth.  We 
«  havri't  begun"  to  mention  them  all,  but  there  they  all 
were,  and  every  one  of  their  names,  already,  as  pat  on 
the  end  of  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust's  tongue  as  could  be,  while 
Mr.  Oscar  Dust  was  no  less  zealously  fortifying  himself 
within  the  citadel  of  the  gentlemen's  patronage  and 
affections. 

Mrs.  Wilson,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  hadn't  a  spark  of 
the  ideal  about  her ;  it  was  in  this  that  she  fell  below 
Mrs.  Major  Slope.  In  the  first  place,  she  was  vulgarly 
curious  as  to  the  quality  of  the  coronation-robe  velvet ; 
and  in  the  second  place,  she  could  not  realize  the  pos 
sibility  of  a  female  named  "  Kitty"  ever  being  elevated 
to  the  "  golden  round"  of  a  coronet ! 

"  And  she  used  to  sing  on  the  stage,  too  ?" 

«  The  queen  of  ballad,  my  dear." 

«  Ah,  well,  I  always  preferred  straight-forward  sing 
ing  myself,  to  this  screwmatic  music  !" 

«  The  ballad !  Mrs.  Wilson    is  the  natural  lyrical 


48  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

expression  of  the  emotions.  I  mentioned  to  you,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Major" — and  here  Mrs.  Oscar  dropped  both 
eyelids  for  a  moment,  and  heaved  a  fat  sigh — «  I  men 
tioned  to  you  a  tender  souvenir  of  earlier  years.  Some 
lines,  treasured  in  this  volume,  (the  scrap  book,)  are  a 
pro  posy  and  might  interest  you,  knowing,  as  you  do, 
the  circumstances." 

And  now  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  got  into  a  perfect  maze 
and  perplexity  in  endeavouring  to  find  the  page  ;  and 
really  she  feared  some  one  must  have  removed  it ;  and 
then  she  had  it,  but — no,  that  was  the  complimentary 
letter  from  the  late  President ;  and  then,  this  was  the 
celebrated  Miss  Harriet  Martinet's  private  criticism 
upon  her  Lady  Macbeth,  and  ah — no,  the  other  was 
the  French  king's  own  note  to  the  American  artist,  Mr. 
Chrome,  desiring  him  to  paint  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  (among 
other  distinguished  democrats,)  for  his  private  gallery 
of  contemporary  genius ! 

«  You  remember,  Mr.  Waters  ?"  continued  the  self- 
entrapped  lady,  for  she  really  blushed  all  over  at  being 
betrayed  into  these  explanations — "  you  remember, 
after  all,  that  poor  Chrome  was  any  thing  but  satisfied 
with  himself!" 

« Oh,  of  course,"  said  the  veteran,  but  he  spoke 
rather  sulkily,  and  stuck  his  hands  in  his  side-pockets, 
and  didn't  seem  to  be  any  more  satisfied  than  the  art 
ist  had  been.  In  fact,  Mr.  Waters  had  not  been  made 
exactly  at  home,  and  he  only  came  out  "to  oblige" 
any  how ;  and  the  king  of  the  French  sketch  he  had 
always  rather  stuck  at,  remembering  that  the  portrait 
in  question  had  been  painted  for  a  season  ticket,  was 
subsequently  set  up  at  a  raffle,  and  now  adorned  a  bar 
room  in  one  of  the  Great  Small  Affair  towns.*  Mrs.  Os- 


THE  DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE.  49 

car,  though,  didn't  mind  his  ways,  for  he  was  such  a 
good  creature  with  all  his  eccentricity ! 

« Ah,  here  it  is !"  said  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  and  she 
pointed  it  out  to  Mrs.  Major  Slope,  for,  trust  herself  to 
read  it,  she  really  couldn't.  Mrs.  Major  was  just  about 
to  indulge  a  favourite  taste  of  hers — reading  poetry 
aloud — and  the  more  expressive  faces  were  adjusting 
themselves  to  a  look  of  rapt  intensity,  in  order  to  do  jus 
tice  to  certain  stanzas,  commencing, 

"Child  of  grandeur " 

and  signed  "  Henry,"  when  a  whirl  upon  the  road 
suddenly  recalled  them,  and  anon,  one  of  the  ladies 
crying  out  "Mr.  Sky!"  even  Mrs. Major  Slope  herself 
put  down  the  book.  * 

There  was  Mr.  Tom  Sky,  truly,  in  a  buggy,  bright 
as  a  lark,  with  his  white  kids,  and  strapped  pant,':,  and, 
altogether,  a  very  knowing-looking  character,  and  be 
side  him  sat  a  gentleman  with  a  heavy  and  inflamed 
face,  but  withal  a  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  yellow 
trowsers,  white  vest,  and  English  drab  hat.  He  wiped 
his  brow,  too,  with  a  cambric  handkerchief,  in  a  dis» 
tingtte  mode,  and,  altogether,  his  appearance,  perfect 
stranger  as  he  was,  excited  a  deep  sensation.  Mr. 
Tom  Sky  lost  no  time  in  introducing  to  the  company, 
Mr.  Flush,  a  gentleman  whom  Mr.  Sky  knew  he  should 
be  thanked  for  bringing,  inasmuch  as,  that  Mr.  Flush 
was  just  one  of  themselves,  a  distinguished  literary 
character,  and  at  present  connected  with  the  eastern 
press ! — that  is,  Mr.  Flush  was  agent  for  that  popular 
monthly,  the  Vinaigrette!  Mr.  Flush  was  a  recent 
Londoner,  had  come  up  on  the  boat  with  Mr.  Sky, 
and  had  evidently  determined  in  his  own  mind  to  en 
courage  the  natives. 

5 


50  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

The  conversation  now  became  of  a  very  recherche 
character.  The  duplicate  Lafayettes  were  discussed  in 
good  set  phrase,  Mr.  Bagly,  however,  taking  great 
pains  to  point  out  also  the  American  Naval  victories, 
as  well  as  to  make  some  extremely  native  remarks  about 
Bunker  Hill !  To  change  the  subject,  the  distinguished 
authors  of  Europe  were  brought  forward,  and  here  Mr. 
Flush  was  no  less  at  home,  though  his  admiration 
chiefly  settled  around  Chawles  Lamb,  who,  as  they  knew, 
of  course,  wrote  the  Essays  of  J/elia. 

« Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Flush,  «  Pve  doated  on  roast 
pig  ever  since  I  read  that  chawming  paper." 

"  Well,  I  allow  you're  just  hunk,  this  time,  then," 
interposed  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  for  we  have  got  the  sweetest 
roaster  for  dinner  you  ever  did  see !" 

Mr.  Flush  chose  to  receive  this  announcement  not 
only  as  a  piece  of  pleasant  news,  but  also  as  a  piece 
of  pleasant  humour,  declaring  that  humour  was  the 
only  thing  he  missed  in  America,  the  people  being  all 
too  busy  to  joke  ;  and  then  he  declared  his  intention  of 
making  hrs  dinner  exclusively  on  roast  pig,  out  of  ven 
eration  for  the  memory  of  J/elia,  who  was  not  only  a 
wit  but  a  wag,  and  he  loved  waggery  of  all  things. 
Hereupon  Mr.  Jake  Bagly  proceeded  to  the  kitchen, 
and  bribed  the  black  cook  to  spit  a  remarkably  fine 
'possum,  which  hung  there,  instead  of  the  pig ! 

Time  wore  away  delightfully,  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  short 
ening  it  with  a  few  of  her  stretchers,  and  appealing  to 
Mr.  Waters  for  the  details;  and  Mr.  Flush  beginning 
to  feel  sufficiently  at  home  to  take  foreign  airs  on  him 
self,  when  another  whirl  on  the  road  announced  Dr. 
Slunk,  and  that  gentleman,  tolerably  "  fired  up"  and  in 
an  evident  ill  humour,  "  paraded  himself." 


THE  DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLK.  51 


THE  GREAT  SMALL  AFFAIR  DINNER. 

Bang-ang-ang-r-r-r-ang-bang !  This  humorous  little 
startle  was  one  of  the  pleasant  effects  of  the  reconcilia 
tion  of  Mesdames  Slope  and  Wilson,  for  this  latter  lady 
knew  that  Mr.  Tom  Sky  had  a  gong  on  his  boat,  and 
she  not  only  borrowed  it  from  him,  but  got  him  to  ring 
it  now  at  the  parlor  door — the  first  time  that  dinner  had 
been  thus  sonorously  announced  in  Pokcrville.  A 
general  scream  was  succeeded  by  a  wide  laugh,  this 
again^subsiding  into  a  giggling  declaration  that  that 
awful  noise  had  ruined  their  appetites,  and  anon  there 
was  a  pairing  off  to  the  dining-room ;  everybody  going 
with  somebody  apparently,  but,  somehow  or  other, 
leaving  Mr.  Kerable  White  and  his  white  cottons,  the 
classic  veteran,  and  Mr.  Johnson,  in  a  sort  of  a  triangu 
lar  isolation. 

«  White,  this  is  what  you  call  mixing  in  society !  is 
it !"  said  Mr.  Waters,  with  a  sort  of  burnt  cork  offended 
dignity  in  the  contraction  of  his  eye-brows. 

«  Suffering,  ray  boy! — In  pain,"  muttered  Mr.  White, 
shaking  his  head,  and  touching  his  side,  as  if  excruciat 
ing  agony  alone  had  prevented  him  from  taking  the 
head  of  the  column.  <*  Bile!"  added  he,  as  perfectly 
conversant  with  the  symptoms,  "Bile,  sir,  bile!" 

Young  Mr.  Bagly  now  made  his  appearance  with  a 
sort  of  lazy  leer  on  his  countenance,  and  invited  them 
to  «  come  along  if  they  wanted  to  see  sport." 

«  Bile,"  repeated  Mr.  White,  "  bile !  must  stick  it 
out,  though !"  and  away  lie  went  in  reckless  defiance 
of  a  bilious  cholic,  at  least. 

The  Great  Small  Affair  dinner  had  been  «  extensively 


52  THE    DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

laid  out,"  depend  upjn  it.  In  a  few  words,  the 
Pokerville  market  had  been  exhausted — to  be  sure  the 
beef  and  mutton  were  lean — it  not  being  a  grazing 
country;  and  the  vegetables  were  scarce — nothing  being 
raised  but  cotton ;  and  the  fish  was  salt — the  nigger 
not  having  caught  any  fresh ;  and  the  poultry  was 
poor — the  people  not  caring  much  about  it ;  but  there 
was  that  «  roaster"  in  all  its  steeray  savor,  already 
carved  and  pervading  every  nostril !  Again,  there  was 
a  magnificent  ham,  all  green  and  yellow — as  the  egg 
and  minced  pickle  mingled ;  bacon  and  greens,  too, 
sent  up  their  inviting  fragrance,  and  a  shoat  stew  was 
not  «  slow"  when  one  went  into  it.  Decanters,  then, 
of  every  tint,  and  "any  quantity"  of  transparent, long 
necked  bottles,  with  labels  on  them,  bearing  anchors, 
stars,  and  other  devices — "prem&re  quality"  and  all 
guarantied  to  "  pop,"  by  Mr.  Wilson,  of  the  store-shed, 
who  had  "furnished  the  wines."  Then  for  the  com 
pany,  they  were  artfully  arranged — streak  of  fat  and 
streak  of  lean  fashion — so  as  to  increase  their  own 
relish  for  themselves.  Mr.  Busby  Case  sat  at  the  head, 
(Major  Slope  having  contrived  to  be  accidentally  wanted 
at  his  upper  plantation,  ten  miles  off,)  with  Mrs.  Oscar 
Dust  on  one  side  and  Mrs.  Major  Slope  on  the  other, 
while  Mr.  Tom  Sky  took  the  foot,  between  Mrs.  Wilson 
and  Miss  Mirny  Hunter.  Mr.  Flush  sat  next  on  the  side 
to  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  and  next  to  Mrs.  Wilson,  on  the 
side,  sat  Mr.  Manager  Dust.  Dr.  Slunk  was  placed 
between  the  Bagly  Gals  ;  Mr.  Wilson,  who  had  come 
from  lord  knows  where,  and  got  to  the  table,  lord 
knows  how — a  round  bashful-looking  man — sat  between 
"the  Davis's" — Mr.  Shade— -Mr.  Bagly — pshaw,  never 
mind, — yes,  we  must  mention  by-the-by,'  that  Messrs. 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  53 

"White,  Waters,  and  Johnson,  were  stuck  together, 
fenced  in  at  one  end  by  the  elderly  lady  who  had  seen 
Washington,  and,  at  the  other,  by  deaf  Miss  Smith  of 
the  wharf-boat  family, 

«  A  little  of  the  roast,  if  you  please."  "  6h,  the 
pig,  of  course  !"  «  Me,  also,  Mr.  Case— some  of  the 
brown,  you  know."  «  Stop,  not  till  after  Mrs.  Dust." 
"None  of  the  stumV !"  «  Some  of  the  slickin's  !" 
Oh,  for  an  active  pen  and  an  easy  stomach  to  do  jus 
tice  to  the  feeders  on  the  present  occasion !  Mrs.  Dust 
fairly  vied,  in  singleness  of  purpose,  with  Mr.  Flush, 
and  between  them  that  pig  received  praises  enough  to 
have  immortalized  a  whole  litter !  "Tender!  sweet! 
delicious  !"  Then  there  was  «  no  grossness  about  it." 
"  It  really  induced  appetite."  "  One  couldn't  eat  too 
much  of  it."  It  was  the  very  pig  which  Chawles 
Lamb  had  celebrated,  Mr.  Flush  declared  ;  and,  as 
for  Mrs.  Dust,  she  admiringly  believed  that  it  wasn't  a 
pig  at  all,  at  which  Cynthia  screwed  up  her  mouth  to 
keep  from  grinning,  and  met  a  rebuke  for  whistling 
instead.  Larry,  the  gardener,  was  also  very  attentive, 
now  transferred  to  the  dining-room,  and  the  regular 
force  was  no  less  efficient,  and,  altogether,  such  a  lus 
cious  time,  and  such  a  demand  for  «  more  pig"  had 
never  tried  menial  activity.  Young  Mr.  Bagly  obtained 
a  great  triumph  over  Mr.  Flush  in  the  acknowledgment 
of  the  latter,  that  he  never  had  eaten  such  pig  in  Eng 
land  !  Dr.  Slunk  asked  the  lady  on  his  right  if  she'd 
take  «  some  of  thisl"  and  the  one  on  his  left,  if  she'd 
take  "  some  of  that  ?"  And  he  also  kept  the  decanter 
— setting  it  down  harder  and  harder  on  its  bottom  after 
every  punishmint,  and,  for  some  unaccountable  reason, 
growing  in  discontent  each  moment.  But  sweetest 


54  THE   DRAMA    IN   POKERVILLE. 

pleasures  are  the  shortest,  and  a  roast  pig  is  no  excep 
tion.  The  stew  and  other  fixin's  had  also  « suffered 
some,"  and  a  removal  of  dishes  was  the  signal  for  that 
«flow«of  soul,"  &c.  Mr.  Busby  Case  arose;  and, 
thereupon,  all  wiped  their  mouths  and  cried  "  hem  /" 
The  intensity  of  the  moment  may  be  imagined  from 
the  fact  that  even  young  Mr.  Bagly  stopped  whit'ling  a 
toothpick. 

Mr.  Buzby  Case  first  hesitated,  and  then  remarked 
upon  the  fact  that  he  hesitated,  and  well  he  might,  he 
further  observed ;  Mr.  C.  had  addressed  larger  assem 
blies,  numerically,  but  the  size  of  the  present  com 
pany  was  independent  of  heads  !  (It  would  not  have 
been  so  safe,  perhaps,  for  him  to  have  said  stomachs.) 
«  Mr.  C.  stood  before  the  genius  and  the  wit  of  Poker- 
ville.  More,  there  were  guests  present,  whose  genius 
and  whose  wit  the  genius  and  the  wit  of  Pokerville  had 
met  to  honour!  A  welcome,  but  unexpected,  guest 
would  not  be  offended,  brilliant  as  were  his  literary 
claims,  if  Mr.  C.,  on  this  occasion,  more  particularly 
referred  to  others  than  himself.  (Mr.  Flush  bowed, 
deprecating  further  notice  of  his  own  poor  merits.) 
Mr.  C.  would  even  at  once  name  the  founder  of  the 
drama  in  Pokerville,  and  the  transcendant  ornament 
of  that  drama,  the  founder's  amiable  and  accomplished 
wife,  as  the  «  bright  particular"  to  whom  homage  was 
paid  on  that  occasion." 

Mr.  C.  was  here  interrupted  by  tumultuous  applause 
— Messrs.  Slunk,  Bagly,  and  White  setting  down  their 
decanters  very  hard  on  the  table.  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust 
wiped  her  nose  till  it  was  very  red,  and  Mr.  C.  re 
sumed. 

"What    had   been   wanting    to    make   Pokerville 


THE    DR4HA    IN    POKERVILLE. 


55 


the  heart  of  refinement,  as  it  already  was  the  head 
of  navigation?  The  drama.  And  what  had  been 
wanting  to  make  the  drama  the  first  of  arts,  as  it 
always  had  been  the  second  of  civilization  ?  The 
Dust.  The  Dust  in  its  direction  ;  the  Dust  in  its  ex 
hibition  ;  and  Mr.  C.  made  bold  to  affirm  that  it  would 
take  a  bigger  sprinkle  than  Coons-borough  could  get  up 
to  ever  lay  that  dust !" 

This  was  a  perfect  obliterator  of  Coons-borough  pre 
tension,  as  it  was  a  downright  drench  to  Coons-borough 
malice,  and  the  way  it  "  took"  was  tremendous ! 

Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  was  sensibly  affected,  and  looked 
towards  Mrs.  Major  Slope  appealingly.  Mr.  C.  had 
reached  his  climax.  To  go  any  further  would  be  to 
get  upon  tip-toe,  and  he  then  might  waggle  ;  besides, 
he  hadn't  any  more  to  say,  and  so  he  « felt  that  he 
must  conclude ;"  he  would,  therefore,  give  them  the 
founders  of  the  drama  in  Pokerville,  and  for  once  they 
might  rejoice  over  their  Dust ! 

Amid  a  storm  of  applause  and  a  volley  of,  at  least, 
three  corks — for  the  majority  of  necks  had  to  be 
twisted,  the  champagne  being  of  the  guggle  instead 
of  the  fly  vintage — it  was  conceded  that  this  was  just 
the  neatest  thing  that  ever  had  been  said  in  Pokerville. 
Mrs.  Major  Slope  pronounced  it  "  attic,"  and  Mr. 
Flush  said  it  was  worthy  of  the  "  pig,"  or  even  J/elia 
himself!  There  was  nothing  but  dust  about  the  table, 
and  in  a  perfect  cloud  of  it,  though  a  radiant  one, 
Mr.  Dust  arose. 

Mr.  Dust  remarked  that  he  was  not  a  facetious  man  ; 
he  would  not  attempt  to  throw  dust  in  their  eyes ;  he 
was  afraid  they  might  be  choked  with  dust ;  yet  dust 
he  was,  and  unto  dust  he  must  return,  and,  therefore, 


56  THE    DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLL. 

he  would  go  on;  and  forthwith  Mr.  Dust  stopped 
awhile  to  let  them  get  through  laughing,  for  this  little 
unpremeditated  sally  tickled  everybody  amazingly ; 
and  Mr.  Dust  knew  it  would,  as  he  had  tested  the 
effect  of  it  on  apt  occasions  ever  since  he  had  been  a 
manager.  The  glow  of  hilarity  was  extreme,  except 
in  the  cases  of  Messrs.  Slunk  and  Waters — the  latter 
of  whom  appeared  to  be  abstractedly  writing  some 
treasured  wrong  with  the  point  of  a  fork  upon  the 
table-cloth.  Mr.  Dust  resumed,  with  the  remark  that 
he  would  «  first,  however,  wash  the  dust  out  of  his 
mouth" — a  lavation  that,  with  a  cheer,  was  generally 
imitated. 

Mr.  Dust  would  now  beg  to  t)e  serious — Mrs.  D. 
and  Mrs.  Major  following,  gave  the  signal  for  a  change 
of  feature  instantly.  Yes,  Mr.  Dust  owed  too  much 
to  Pokerville,  and  too  much  to  his  own  feelings  as  a 
man,  longer  to  indulge  in  the  mere  sparkle  of  wit, 
which,  like  the  champagne  they  were  drinking,  effer 
vesced  but  to  exhale.  Mr.  Dust  had  prepared  his 
figure  under  the  reasonable  expectation  of  a  tolerably 
lively  article ;  but,  as  it  happened,  the  application  was 
not  so  clear,  seeing  that  young  Mr.  Bagly  had  already 
broken  three  slim  glasses,  driving  them  through  his 
hand  in  the  attempt  to  raise  «  a  bead  ;"  while  more, 
cautious  gentlemen  were  actually  stirring  up  theirs  with 
crusts,  and  the  ladies  were  precipitating  into  theirs 
raisin  after  raisin  without  sending  a  globule  to  the  sur 
face.  Mr.  Dust  went  on  through.  Yes,  Mr.  Dust 
would  look  serious  ^  he  would  remember  that,  but  a 
short  time  ago,  he  had  arrived  in  Pokerville  with  no 
invitation  save  his  confidence  in  man — no  introduc 
tion  save  that  of  his  letters  ;  he  would  remember  that 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  57 

the  drama,  without  the  promise  of  a  roof,  had  found  a 
dome  possessing  even  peculiar  advantages,  and  that, 
with  nothing  but  her  legitimate  resources,  and,  might 
he  add,  some  small  amount  of  talent  and  energy  to  aid 
her,  she  now  sat  «  firm  as  the  marble,  founded  as  the  ' 
rock."  «  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Dust,  pardonably  yielding  to 
a  generous  enthusiasm,  «  destroy  your  present  temple  ; 
let  even  convulsion  level  it  with  the  earth,  (on  a  strict 
estimate,  a  fall  of  ten  feet,)  yet  will  it  rise  again — 
again  will  genius  thrill  the  breast  of  sympathy."  No 
less  generous  as  a  boast  than  delicate  as  a  compliment, 
all  hearts  responded  to  this.  Mrs.  Major  Slope  met 
the  eyes  of  the  company  with  a  palpitation  evident  to 
all ;  and  Mr.  Kemble  White,  as  the  gaze  was  natu 
rally  also  directed  to  himself,  drew  on  his  White  cot 
tons  and  took  them  off  again,  and  looked  towards  Mr. 
"Waters,  who  was  still  solving  something  in  the  table 
cloth,  with  heavy  drinks  between,  and  thought  that 
he  was  right  with  regard  to  «  society,"  after  all.  Mr. 
Dust  had  even  overcome  himself.  He  looked  as  if  he 
should  betray  a  weakness,  were  he  to  proceed.  He 
looked  at  Mrs.  Dust,  and  his  emotion  increased  ;  there 
was  a  spasmodic  action  in  his  throat.  « Friends," 
said  Mr.  Dust,  «  I  thought  I  had  known  myself  better; 
but  kindness  like  that  of  Pokerville !  I  would  have 
thanked  you  for  myself— for  one  other — for  the  drama 
— for  her  children — for  your  full  and  fashionable  at 
tendance — for  the  future  promise  of  next  week — for — 
for — pardon  this  weakness ;"  and  Mr.  Dust's  thanks 
utterly  failed  him,  just  as  he  had  got  to  the  end  of  his 
list.  He  recovered  himself  amidst  the  general  emotion, 
filled  his  glass  with  sudden  resolution,  and,  in  a  firm, 
voice,  gave, 


THE  DRAMA    IN   POKEBVILLE. 

"  The  Pokerville  taste — the  Pokerville  temple — the 
drama,  while  it  hails  the  one,  shall  halo  the  other !" 

There  was  a  nerve  and  dignity  in  the  tone  of  this 
which  was  very  fine,  very ;  in  fact,  there  is  but  one 
x  term  for  it — it  was  thrilling  ! 

Applause  was  long  and  loud ;  and  Mr.  Oscar  Dust 
never  felt  himself  so  completely  head,  front,  and  ex 
tremity  of  the  Great  Small  AflTair  Theatres  as  at  that 
moment. 

Mr.  Busby  Case  rose.  He,  would  give  one  other 
toast. 

"Mrs.  Oscar  Dust. — A  planet  in  her  orbit;  might 
she  become  a  fixed  star  at  Pokerville." 

There  was  something  more  than  natural, — "  if  phi 
losophy  could  find  it  out,"  as  Hamlet  says,  in  the  rapid 
succession  of  clever  things  upon  this  pleasing  occasion. 
And  it  was  evident,  from  the  growing  exhilaration,' 
that  people  had  just  "given  way  to  the  thing." 

The  present  toast  was  a  regular  melter ;  and  enthu 
siasm,  admiration,  and  sentiment  swelled  the  stream,  at 
the  rate  of  a  ten  foot  "  rise"  at  least.  There  was  a 
moment's  embarrassment.  "Mrs.  Dust!"  hurriedly  whis 
pered  Mrs.  Slope.  "  By  all  means,  my  dear,"  ex 
claimed  that  lady.  Mr.  Case  expressed  gratified  sur- 
"prise.  And  with  a  sweet  diffidence,  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust 
stood  before  the  company.  "She's  going  to  speak!" 
buz/ed  everybody.  "  D — d  if  she  isn't!"  muttered 
the  doctor.  "Never  be  taken  alive!"  sneered  Mr. 
Kemble  White.  "Something  on  her  stomach,  I  reck 
on,"  leered  Mr.  Bagly. 

«  Friends  /"  began  Mrs,  Oscar,  and  you  might  have 
«  heard  a  pin  drop,"  as  they  say  in  the  papers,  "  'Tis 
woman's  part  iofccl,"  said  Mrs.  Oscar ;  "  society  pre- 


THE   DRAMA    IN    POKKRVILLE.  59 

scribes  forms  even  for  her  affections  ;  and  fain  would  I 
be  mute,  but  that  my  heart  cries  out  <  You  mustn't  !' 
As  a  female,  I  feel  your  gallantry  ;  as  an  artiste,  your 
approbation,  and  as  a  matron  —  older  than  some  pre 
sent,"  —  (Mrs.  Dust  made  this  admission  with  a  charm 
ing  ingenuousness,)  «I  may  claim  a  privilege.  A 
matron;  yes,  a  mother.  And  the  grace  and  beauty 
present  remind  me,  young  ladies,  that  I  have  a  daugh 
ter  like  you  —  at  an  Eastern  seminary.  Mr.  Waters 
knows"  — 

"At  a  farm  in  Kentucky;"  groaned  the  veteran, 
nearly  audibly,  and  pouring  out  an  enormous  horn  ; 
"kept  out  of  the  way." 

Mrs.  Dust  went  on  :  —  "Mr.  Sky,  too,  nnd  Mr.  fiagly 
will  excuse  me,  especially  the  last,  who  has  received  a 
martial  education,  when  1  say  that  I  have  a  son  —  now 
serving  his  country  —  'tis  now  three  years,  as  Mr.  Wa 
ters  knows,  since  his  midshipman's  warrant."  — 

"  Runs  to  Texas  ;  mate  on  a  steamboat  !"  muttered 
Mr.  W. 

"But  these  are  private  matters,"  said  Mrs.  D., 
changing  her  tone,  now  that  she  had  made  them  pub 
lic  ;  "  let  me  at  once  speak  my  grateful  .thanks,  and 
forgive  my  chiming  fancy,  which  suggests  sT  metrical 
impromptu" 

"  Your  Ary-iW  approval  to  uphold  my  cruise, 
To  (fue-ard  thu  path  you  crown  with  your  applause  : 
JUf-i/uu  are  the  tke-cyca,  an  Eden  promise  still, 
Nor  serpent  wiles  shall  tempt  from  Pokerville," 

It  had  originally  read, 


"  Blvyon  are  ilif  t  kii'H,  nn  Eden  shut  from  Borrow; 
Nor  serpent  wiles  shall  lure  from  thee,  Coonsborough." 


60  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

But  Mrs.  Dust  excelled,  equally,  in  adapting  herself 
to  every  thing,  and  every  thing  to  herself.  , 

"Oh,  h — 11!"  contemptuously  blurted  out  Mr.  Wal 
ters,  with  his  eyes  «  sot ;"  but,  fortunately,  his  excla 
mation  was  unnoticed  in  the  storm  of  applause  which 
rewarded  the  discovery  that  Mrs.  Dust  was  "  a  poet 
too." 

The  great  guns  had  now  gone  off,  and  the  rattle 
among  the  small  pieces  succeeded  ;  something  lofty 
was  demanded  from  Mr.  Sky>  who  replied,  that  the 
expectation  was  unreasonable,  as  he  was  at  the  foot  of 
the  company,  yet  as  it  was  a  Po/cerville  game,  he  as- 
'sured  them  that  they  needn't  "pass,"  as  they  held  a 
flush  in  their  hands.  A  few-de-joy  of  wit,  which  Mrs. 
Major  Slope  declared,  would  bring  out  a  flush  any 
where  ;  so  that  be-punned  upon  gentleman  arose,  and 
excusing  himself  from  a  speech,  after  the  eloquent  and 
masterly  efforts  which  they  had  listened  to,  offered  to 
sing  a  "  ballad  from  the  German,"  which  he  did, 
"  right  off,"  in  a  very  deep  voice,  and  with  a  protrusion 
of  the  upper  lip  and  a  rolling  of  the  eyes;  and  which 
ballad  was  all  about  a  little  boy  that  had  been  stolen 
from  behind  his  father,  a  horse-back,  in  the  woods,  by 
a  mysterious  demon,  who  had  all  the  low  notes ;  and, 
altogether  it  was  a  blood-creeping  kind  of  an  effort, 
which  almost  lent  a  mystery  to  the  person  of  Mr.  Flush 
himself.  They  never  had  heard  any  one  "  sing  so 
deep,"  and  as  for  Mr.  Oscar  Dust,  who  had  heard*  all 
the  first  singers,  he  pronounced  Mr.  F.'s  tone  to  be  the 
finest  he  had  ever  heard  in  his  life,  combining  with  the 
bass  the  invaluable  qualities  of  the  baratone. 

Mrs.  Major  Slope,  now  remembering,  suddenly,  that 
she  had  not  been  as  attentive  to  her  lesser  order  of  his- 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  61 

tnonic  guests  as  she  might  have  been,  desired  Mr. 
Case  to  give — "Mr.  Kemble  White,  and  the  gentlemen 
of  the  Great  Small  Affair  Company."  And  it  was 
given  accordingly,  and  there  was  great  applause,  par 
ticularly  from  young  Mr.  Bagly*  And  then  all  eyes 
were  fixed  on  (he  "  acknowledged  Rollo,"  who  looked 
at  the  «  classic  veteran,"  who  was  once  more  looking 
at  the  table-cloth  ;  and,  anon,  Mr.  Johnson  began 
nudging  Mr.  White,  and  Mr.  White  again,  abstractedly, 
began  drawing  on  his  white  cottons.  He  found  him 
self  up  at  last,  however,  and  he,  in  a  brusque  tone,  com 
menced  : — 

«  Ladies  and  Gentlemen:" — The  familiar  sound  of 
which  at  once  drew  Mr.  Waters's  glassy  gaze  full  upon 
him.  (Mr.  White  stuck!) 

« A-hera  !  Ladies  and  gentlemen  ;  in  appearing 
be"— 

Mr.  White  took  up  his  glass,  and  he  put  down  his 
glass;  and  finally,  turning  to  the  Sardonic  veteran, 
"Bile!  Waters,"  said  he,  "Bile!"  and  down  he  sat  in 
an  evident  gripe  ;  "  society"  having  received  another 
« lick  back"  in  his  bosom. 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !"  roared  Mr.  Waters,  in  a  sort  of 
«  Wolf's  glen"  merriment,  and  looking  as  much  like 
Zamiel  as  if  he  had  «  made  up  his  face"  for  it. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  The  acknowledged  Rollo !"  and  bang 
ing  his  decanter  down  on  the  table,  he  spoiled  Mrs. 
Major  Slope's  set,  by  knocking  the  bottom  from  under 
one  of  them. 

The  effect  was  electric !  There  was  a  general  start, 
a  general  horror!  Mrs.  Major  Slope  was  frightened; 
Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  toweringly  indignant ;  Mr.  Dust,  how 
ever,  was  more  anxious  than  any  thing  else,  for  he 

6 


62  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKKRVILLK. 

knew  Mr.  Waters  of  old,  and  plainly  recognised  the 
symptoms  of  a  downright  phrensy,  which  his  potations 
sometimes  induced.  There  was  no  remedy  but  an  in* 
stant  « turn  him  out,"  and  this  was  attempted  by  the 
manager  and  «  gentlemen  of  the  company;"  but,  armed 
with  a  broken  decanter,  the  veteran  bade  defiance  to 
them  all  in  the  most  classic  attitudes.  The  attempt, 
too,  produced  an  access  of  rage,  and  he  became  fear 
fully  Miltonic. 

"Gun-shot  wounds,  and  female  fits!  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha! 
'Tis  false  as  hell !  I  say  it  ;"I,  who  never — Ha!  a  mid 
shipman — and  the  king  of  the  French — hanging  up  in 
a  bar-room — on  a  Kentucky  farm — ye  gods  !  Back,  on 
your  lives!"  And  here,  Mr.  White  got  a  kick,  which 
increased  his  bilious  symptoms. 

"What!  am  I  fallen  so  low,  to  sell  my  soul  to  the 
mother  of  lies  ?  I  defy  ye.  Hissed  at  Coons-borough ! 
Your  coronation  robe,  too,  turned  and  dyed !  Ha,  ha, 
ha !  humbug,  I — " 

Mr.  Tom  Sky,  who  had  stolen  upon  the  veteran  un 
der  the  table,  now  cut  short  his  incoherent  abuse,  by 
knocking  his  legs  from  under  him ;  when  he  was  in 
stantly  secured,  and  borne  off — a  regular  heavy  villain's 
fifth  act  exit.  And  never  had  Mr.  Waters  made  one 
leaving  such  a  thrilling  sensation  behind  him. 

The  Great  Small  Affair  banquet  was  essentially  knock 
ed  into  a  cocked-hat ;  but  evening  was  approaching,  at 
any  rate,  when  their  duties  to  the  public  must  have  sum 
moned  a  portion  of  the  guests,  and  Mr.  Oscar  Dust,  very 
pale  and  «  flustrated,"  yet  endeavouring  to  look  simply 
wounded, endeavoured  to  express  his  inexpressible  con 
cern  and  mortification  at  an  incident  so  wild,  so  unpar 
alleled,  entirely  unlike  any  thing  he  had  ever.heard  of — 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKKRVILLE.  63 

so,  more  than  any  thing  else,  resembling  the  fantasy  of  a 
distempered  dream ;  an  event  which  had  marred  a  re 
union  unequalled  in  taste  and  refinement. 

Mr.  Dust  could  have  gone  on  to  any  amount,  and 
would  have  done  so,  but  for  another  extraordinary  in 
terruption  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Oscar,  who,  turning  deadly 
pale,  and  catching  Mr.  Busby  Case  round  the  neck,  to 
save  herself  from  falling,  staggered  from  the  room, 
followed  by  such  ladies  as  hadn't  disappeared  earlier ; 
of  course,  Mr.  Dust,  in  no  small  alarm,  made  his  exit, 
also. 

"  Tom  Sky,  did  you  eat  any  of  that  pig,"  inquired 
young  Mr.  Bagly,  in  hurried  accents. 

«  Not  a  bite  ;"  said  Tom  Sky.     «  Did  you,  Bag  ?" 

"  Not  the  first  mouthful ;  that  plsin  old  brown  sow's 
litter  again,  I'll  bet  a  corde." 

«  Gentlemen,  you  alarm  me,"  anxiously  observed 
Mr.  Flush.  «  Pray,  what  was  the  matter  with  the 
pigs?"  Messrs.  Sky  and  Bagly  exchanged  glances 
ruefully,  at  the  same  time  kicking  Dr.  Slunk  under  the 
table ;  but  this  gentleman,  still  in  his  sullen  fit,  declared 
he  must  return  to  town,  at  once,  and  off  he  went. 

«  The  pig  was  wholesome,  gentlemen,  eh !"  urged 
Mr.  Flush.  Messrs.  Sky  and  Bagly  again  exchanged 
glances. 

«  Extremely  sweet,  wasn't  it  ?"  said  the  former 

«  Deliriously  so,"  said  Mr.  Flush. 

"  Fatter'n  common  ?"  said  Bagly. 

"Unusually!" 

"And  tender?" 

"Quite!" 

«  Brown  and  crackly  ? 

"  Never  saw  such  a  pig !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Flush. 


64  THE   DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE. 

«  The  thing's  out ;  the  pisin  litter !"  cried  Mr.  Bagly. 

"  Good  God,  gentlemen,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  gasped 
the  agent  of  the  Vinaigrette. 

"  Don't  you  feel  a  qualmishness  at  your  stomach, 
now  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Sky. 

"  I  do,  distinctly !"  and  Mr.  Flush  grew  pale. 

"A  sort  of  a  risin'?"  said  Mr.  Bagly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  sick !" 

"Just  the  way  it  comes  on!"  observed  the  gentle 
man.  "  It's  the  fat  that  does  it !" 

"In  the  name  of  honour,  gentlemen,  what  was  the 
matter  with  the  pig?"  demanded  the  now  livid  Mr. 
Flush. 

"  The  old  sow  eat  a  nigger  baby  with  the  small-pox, 
that's  all!" 

The  unhappy  victim  of  a  fatal  admiration  for  Jfelia 
and  roast  pig,  plunged  towards  the  door,  but  was 
stopped  in  his  career  by  the  entrance  of  Larry,  who 
bore  a  singular  something,  apparently  the  roasted  head 
of  a  "  varmint,"  on  a  carving  fork. 

"The  devil's  own  kitchen  to  the  cook,  sir!"  cried 
the  gardener-waiter,  "  do  you  know  the  baste  yi'v  been 
ating  ?" 

"  One  of  the  litter !"  screamed  the  sufferer ;  "  poi 
soned  !" 

"  Be  dad,  it's  very  likely  ;  for  it's  few  stomachs  can 
stand  them,  enticin'  as  they  are  ;"  said  Larry.  «  Sure, 
I  found  it  out  by  the  head  of  the  crayture,  that  the 
black  divil  had  put  away  for  a  private  snack !"  and 
.  here  he  held  up  the  fork  to  the  eyes  of  the  dying  one, 
whose  gaze  became  even  more  horrified. 

"My  God,  what  a  country!"  groaned  he;  "Is  that 
the  head  of  a  pig  ?" 


THE    DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE.  65 

« It's  the  head  of  a  mighty  fine  possum,  faith ! 
barrin'  that  it's  bad  to  ate  much  of  it!"  said  Larry. 

«  A  possum !  an  o-possum  !" 

«  Yis,  an  o-possum,  exceptin'  -that  they  think  the  o  is 
too  Irish !  Sure,  their  pride  is  enough  to  turn  any  one's 
stomach,  sur!" 

The  conspirators  now  hastened  to  relieve  Mr.  Flush 
from  his  apprehensions  of  poison,  assuring  him  that 
thirty  grains  of  calomel  and  a  little  oil  would  be  all  he 
need  to  resort  to,  but  his  symptoms  became  more  de 
cided  notwithstanding,  and  he  took  Mr.  Larry's  arm  to 
seek  retirement  for  a  short  time. 

Evening  was  at  hand  ;  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust,  though  re 
lieved  from  her  first  strange  attack,  was  still  dreadfully 
«  shaken,"  as  Mr.  Dust  said ;  and,  with  deep  distress, 
that  gentleman  found  himself  compelled  to  hurry  up  to 
town  to  change  the  performance.  Mrs.  Dust  was  to 
remain  with  Mrs.  Slope  till  the  morning,  and  thus  the 
Great  Small  Affair  festival,  that  promised  so  much  for 
the  renown  of  Pokerville,  and  the  eclat  of  its  visitors, 
was  "crucified,  dead,  and  buried,  through  a  pig  and  a 
very  heavy  man !"  as  Mr.  Dust  exclaimed  in  his  vex 
ation. 


THE  GREAT  POKERVILLE  "SAW." 

MANAGER  DUST  was  a  famous  general ;  his  resources 
were  inexhaustible,  and  his  genius  adapted  them  to  the 
occasion  with  wronderful  promptitude.  The  perform 
ance  must  be  changed  ;  for  a  dismiss  of  such  a  house 
as  there  would  be  on  that  evening,  attracted  by  the 
odours  of  the  banquet,  was  out  of  the  question. 

6* 


66  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKER VILLE. 

Manager  Dust  arranged  it  all  as  he  drove  into  town. 
There  was  a  favourite  one-act  farce  "  up"  in  the  com 
pany,  which  had  not  yet  been  «  done ;"  and  this,  by 
cutting  out  one  of  the  female  parts,  and  letting  down 
the  curtain  twice  extra,  would  do  for  a  "  full  comedy," 
under  the  circumstances.     Then  there  was  a  shorter 
farce,  which  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  playing  alone   in,  and  the  change,  backed 
by  a  touching  speech,  in  which  the  manager  should 
struggle   with   the   husband,   would   make   all   right, 
doubtless.      Manager  Dust  called   to    prepare   Miss 
Wilkins,  but  his  masterly  arrangement  changed  its  as 
pect  fearfully  wh»n  he  found  that  the  young  lady  was 
not  only  locked  in  her  room,  as  usual,  but  in  a  high 
fever  and  utterly  unable  to  perform  herself!    Dismiss! 
such  a  thing,  with  the  prospect  of  a  house,  was  un 
known  in  Small  Affair  history !     Manager  Dust  once 
more  changed  his  programme.     A  doubly  touching 
speech ;  scenes  from  six  tragedies,  in  which  he  himself 
should  shoulder  the  classic  veteran's  labours  in  addi 
tion  to  his  own,  (Manager  Dust's  facility  in  "  doubling" 
was  extraordinary,)  three  grand  overtures  by  Mr.  Henry 
Charles  Johnson,  extra  songs  by  Mr.  Fitzcarol,  and 
comic  songs,  concluding  with  the  "  revolving  statues," 
by  Mr.  Dust !     There  was  a  bill  to  gratify  the  most  in 
satiable,  and,  it  being  already  past  dark,  the  Napoleon 
of  Small  Affairs  proceeded  at  once  to  the  theatre  to 
notify  "the  people."     Mr.  Fitzcarol  was  punctual,  as 
usual ;  and  before  the  lights  were  all  ready,  Messrs. 
White  and  Johnson  arrived,  to  know  what  was  to  be 
done.     They  were  at  once  directed  by  the  «  change 
of  performance,"  which  was  formally  displayed  upon 
the  « caste-board,"  and,  now,  with  a  mind  more  at 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  67 

ease,  the  Small  Affair  manager  went  into  his  box-office 
with  a  formidable  supply  of  tickets. 
-  « 'Tis  not  in  mortals  to  command  success,"  as  is 
said  somewhere — in  a  book,  and  no  one  could  find 
fault  with  Mr.  Dust's  arrangements  upon  the  present 
occasion,  but,  unfortunately,  the  Great  Small  Affair 
dinner  had  attracted  too  much  attention,  for  all  Poker- 
ville  not  to  be  already  aware  of  "  how  it  came  off;" 
and  the  'possum  disaster,  with  young  Mr.  Bagly  to 
make  the  most  of  it,  was  already  affording  the  town 
play  enough  for  that  night.  The  curtain  rose  to  a  slim 
house,  and  even  these  were  not  as  much  carried  away 
by  Manager  Dust's  eloquence  as  he  flattered  himself 
would  be  the  case.  However,  they  applauded,  and 
the  offer,  distantly  glanced  at,  of  money  being  "  re 
turned"  was  not  likely  to  be  taken  advantage  of,  when 
there  was  a  «  rush  of  six" — without  tickets — in  front, 
and  every  tongue  of  them  informed  the  speaker  before 
the  curtain,  that  Mr.  Waters  had  just  been  shot ! 

"Dead  as  a  nit?" 

"Right  through  the  head!" 

«Up  to  the  hotel!" 

«  By  Dave  Bagly !" 

The  theatre  was  cleared  in  an  instant,  as  was  the 
box-office  of  its  receipts,  all  running  to  "  get  the 
hang"  of  the  scrape,  and  the  Founder  of  the  Drama  in 
Pokerville,  like  other  great  men  who  had  gone  before 
him,  was  left  to  his  own  lights,  alas ! 

There  lay  the  veteran,  sure  enough,  on  the  bar-room 
floor,  his  hair  matted  with  blood,  and  Bagly,  with  a 
revolver  iu  his  hand,  and  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  pacing 
up  and  down  beside  his  expiring  victim.  There  was 


68  THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE, 

a  great  crowd  about,  and  the  chafed  and  excited  man* 
ager  soon  mingled  in  it.  The  story  was  a  very  short 
and  very  plain  one,  as  usual ;  Mr.  Waters  had  come 
into  town,  alone,  «  rearin'  up  and  playin'  h — 11 ;"  had 
run  foul  of  the  wrong  one,  Mr.  Bagly,  and  had  got 
his  brains  blown  out,  "like  a  dog!"  And  Mr.  Bagly 
was  there,  with  five  more  barrels,  to  do  the  same  for 
any  gentleman  who  might  say  «  shucks !"  Mr.  Dust 
was  not  the  man  to  use  any  offensive  monosyllable  of 
the  kind  ;  but  he  did  say  that  it  was  «  really  unfortu 
nate  !"  and  he  requested  Dr.  Slunk  to  do  all  in  his 
power,  and,  moreover,  hearing  his  name  muttered  by 
the  dying  man,  he  took  his  hand  kindly,  and  asked 
what  he  could  do  for  him  ? 

Dr.  Slunk  now  ordered  in  a  pail  of  water,  and  while 
manager  and  heavy  man  were  thus  tenderly  connected, 
he  unceremoniously  dashed  it  in  the  face  of  the  latter, 
who  rose  suddenly  at  the  shock,  looked  around  wildly, 
and  asked  if  the  curtain  was  up  ?  Mr.  Dust  started  in 
no  less  surprise,  when  a  scream  of  laughter  burst  from 
all  quarters. 

"Sawed,  by  thunder!"  "Small-affair sold!"  "Good 
lick !"  «  Send  for  the  coroner !"  and  a  thousand  other 
triumphant  jests  at  his  expense, 

The  manager  was  "  sawed,"  as  certainly  as  that  Mr. 
Waters  was  not  slain ;  for,  following  up  the  possum 
success,  Mr.  Bagly  had  simply  clotted  the  veteran's 
hair  with  a  charge  of  red  paint  instead  of  his  own 
brains,  and  the  drench  of  cold  water  had  restored  these 
latter  to  consciousness,  if  not  to  sobriety. 

;  Dust's  outward  enjoyment  of  the  joke  was  amaz- 
He  laughed  at  himself  twice  as  much.as  any  one 
else  did  ;  declared  his  night's  holiday  to  be  worth  more 


THE   DRAMA   IN    POKER VILLE.  69 

than  the  most  profitable  night  of  the  season ;  and  as  he 
had  of  course  to  «  stand  the  liquors,"  the  way  he  in 
vited  all  to  "come  up,"  was  as  off-hand  as  popular! 
He  drank,  himself,  too,  and  then  he  took  "  another" 
witft  Dave  Bagly,  and  "another"  with  Dr.  Slunk;  and 
then,  what  with  his  disappointments,  and  his  fatigue, 
and  his  " keeping  the  thing  up,"  he  became  extrava 
gant,  and  took  two  or  three  others ;  and,  finally,  when 
young  Bagly  suggested  that  the  Dr.,  Mr.  Dust,  and 
himself  should  take  a  friendly  game  of  poker  in  Mr. 
Dust's  own  room — as  he  was  to  be  n  single  man  for 
the  night — the  manager  said,  "  go  it,"  and  led  the  way 
up  stairs  in  the  highest  possible  spirits,  and  was  soon 
muking  the  highest  possible  bets,  and  never  stopped 
getting  wilder,  and  "going"  more  and  more  on  his 
cards,  till  his  last  draught  on  his  funds  was  unhonoured, 
and,  in  a  perfect  whirl,  calling  for  more  "peach, "and 
lamenting  Mrs.  Oscar,  and  making  arrangements  to 
bury  "  the  veteran,"  and  changing  the  pieces,  and 
d — m — g  Coons-borough,  he  found  himself  on  the  bed, 
where,  albeit,  he  was  wrong  end  in ;  he  was  right  side 
up  for  all  sleeping  purposes,  and  so  exeunt  Messrs. 
Slunk  arid  Bagly. 

"  And  you  mean  to  fix  the  thing,  sure,  to-night  ?" 
inquired  the  hitter,  of  his  companion,  as  they  stood  on 
the  steps  of  the  hotel. 

"Or  shoot  some  one,  by  G — d!"  replied  the  M.  D., 
savagely.  "Put  it  through  before  daylight,  or  die! 
Give  us  light.  My  name's  Captain  Scott,  I  reckon !" 

The  Captain  Scott  in  question  must  have  been  a  man 
of  some  invincible  quality  or  other,  if,  with  his  name, 
the  doctor  assumed  his  manner  on  this  occasion ! 

Some  two  hours  after  this,  Mr.  Dave  Bagiy  was 


70  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

shaken  out  of  a  favourite  dream  of  his — the  exercise  of 
a  small  sleight  of  hand  in  the  case  of  certain  cards — by 
Cynthy,  who  hod  returned  to  town,  it  seemed,  and  who 
told  him,  "  Dat  Massa  Doc  Slunk  was  Jyin'  dead,  for 
sure,  under  Miss  Fanny's  winder !" 


THE  GREAT  SMALL  AFFAIR  SCANDAL. 

FOR  the  first  time  within  the  circle  of  Pokerville 
«*  society" — that  is,  the  inner  circle, — on  a  fine  Sab 
bath  morning,  too,  there  existed  the  flutter  and  fluster 
of  a  loud  and  lively  scandal — more,  a  theatrical  scan 
dal  !  From  Parson  Hyme,  through  every  ramification 
of  church  connection,  before  nine  o'clock,  there  was  a 
foul  mystery, — an  eager  horror, — a  general  "I  said 
so !" — stirring  and  thrilling,  and  goading  every  sense 
of  decency  and  propriety  into  every  utterance  of  pious 
regret  and  holy  denunciation !  The  « fashionable 
leader,"  somehow,  had  more  to  do  with  it  than  any 
body  else,  for  what  could  be  expected  of  levelling  her 
self  with  "  such  people ;"  and  Mrs.  Wilson  of  the  store- 
shed  was  particcps  criminis,  also,  and  even  the  store- 
shed  itself  was  tried,  condemned,  and  only  waiting 
execution !  So  much  for  introducing  a  theatre  ! — and 
so  much  for  admitting  actors  into  society! — and  so 
much  for  complimentary  dinners! — and  so  much  for 
newspaper  puffery ! — and  so  much  for  fat  leading  la 
dies! — and  so  much  for  light  loose  ones!  Everybody 
knew  it ! — everybody  said  it ! — everybody  saw  it.  And 
now,  pray,  what  was  it  all  about  ? 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKE&VILLE.  71 

What!  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  brutal  and 
bloody  fight,  at  midnight,  in  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins's 
chamber,  between  two  of  her  gallants,  one  of  whom 
succeeded  in  throwing  the  other  out  of  the  window! 
That  was  the  simple  subject  which  was  to  feed  Parson 
Hyme's  morning  discourse,  and  supply  his  whole  con 
gregation  for  the  remainder  of  the  day  ;  with  Mrs.  Ma 
jor  Slope  and  her  entire  literary  and  fashionable  e/fywe. 
dashed  over  it  as  a  seasoning. 

About  the  bar-rooms  the  excitement  was  equally 
great.  Slunk  was  next  to  dead,  that  was  certain ;  con 
tusions  all  over  his  body,  and  talking  as  if  out  of  his 
senses.  He  had  evidently  been  thrown  out  of  the  win 
dow,  and  the  only  question  was,  who  had  done  it  ? 
Some  hinted  at  Dave  Bagly,  and  others  at  Tom  Sky, 
and  others  that  old  «  Figurehead"  Fitzcarol  might  be 
the  man,  in  support  of  which  idea,  it  was  remembered 
that  he  had  left  the  hotel  at  sunrise  ; — his  constant  cus 
tom  every  Sunday,  poor  fellow ; — to  wander  in  the 
country  all  day  long.  As  for  the  negroes,  they  had 
their  stories,  too,  built  upon  the  positive  averment  of 
Cynthy,  who  happened  to  have  been  up,  and  who  saw, 
with  her  own  eyes,  the  "  debbel"  himself  appear  with 
Massa  Slunk,  not  at  Miss  Fanny's  window,  but  on  the 
roof  just  above  it,  and  after  wringing  his  neck,  chicken 
fashion,  "drap"  him  right  down,  and  then  fly  off  in 
the  shape  of  a  big  buzzard !  In  the  mean  time,  Fanny 
was  struggling  under  an  access  of  fever,  but  steadily 
refusing  all  attendance  save  that  of  Cynthy ;  the  doctor 
was  undergoing  a  series  of  fomentations  at  the  hand  of 
Bagly ;  and  Manager  Dust  was  endeavouring  to  recall 
his  recollection  under  the  interrogatories  of  Mrs.  D., 
who,  having  recovered  her  stomach,  and  growing  im- 


72  THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE. 

patient  at  Mr.  D.'s  delay  in  coming  out  for  her,  had 
caused  herself  to  be  driven  in  at  once. 

«  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  the  manager,  with  a  suppressed 
hiccough  which  he  dexterously  turned  into  an  abrupt 
ah  !  «  An  attack  similar  to  your  own.  It  didn't  come 
on  until — ah  ! — late,  though, — after  the  dismiss !" 

« You  dismissed,  Mr.  Dust!" 

«  Had  to  do  it ;  it  was  you  or  nothing,  my  dear. 
They  demanded — ah  ! — their  money" — 

"But  in  bed  with  your  boots  and  clothes  on! 
Why"— 

"Just  as  I  was  attacked,  my  dear!  Hadn't  power 
to  help  myself!  I  thought  of  you  though,  my  love— 
aA/"  Here  the  Napoleon  of  Small  Affairs  attempted 
to  reach  the  pilcher,  but  brought  himself  up  in  exactly 
the  opposite  corner ;  and  then  he  brought  himself  down 
on  a  band-box,  containing  a  choice  couple  of  Mrs.  D.'s 
stage -hats. 

"  Dust !"  cried  the  amazed  lady,  «  are  you  drunk?" 

"  No,  my  dear,  that  d — d  'possum,  that's  all !" 

«' Possum,  sir!  You  have  availed  yourself  of  my 
absence — suffering  though  I  was — to  indulge  in  a  de 
bauch  !"  And  here,  as  if  thrilled  with  a  sudden  pre 
sentiment,  the  indignant  manageress  rushed  at  him, 
thrust  her  hand  into  one  of  his  side  pockets,  drew  from 
it  a  bunch  of  keys,  and  opening  a  private  drawer  in 
their  strong  box,  found  it  empty ! 

«  Du$t  /"  screamed  the  lady  ;  but  with  a  surer  aim 
than  he  had  made  at  the  pitcher,  Dust  hit  the  door 
handle  and  vanished,  retreating,  without  a  hope,  the 
full  length  of  the  passage,  and,  finally,  as  the  result  of 
his  Waterloo,  exiling  himself  to  his  Helena — Cynthy's 
mattress  in  the  garret — for  the  remainder  of  the  day. 


THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  73 

«  JPrehaps,"  Parson  Hyme  didn't  put  it  in  to  Polcer- 

ville  for  two  mortal  hours ;  and  prehaps  Pokerville 
didn't  wiggle,  wince,  and  finally  "  flummix"  right  be 
neath  him ! . .  Mrs.  Major  Slope  wasn't  there,  and  pre- 
haps  Parson  Hyme  didn't  take  advantage  of  it  to  talk 
about  the  desertion  of  one  altar  for  that  of  another — 
fashion!  Mrs.  Major  Slope  wasn't  there,  but  Mrs. 
Wilson  was,  and  jorchaps  her  round  little  husband  didn't 
feel  himself  flattened  right  out,  only  wishing  that  he 
might  also  be  rolled  up  and  put  away  for  ever  more, 
out  of  all  possible  reach ;  and  j»rehaps  he  didn't  curse 
the  day  when  he  had  consented  that  his  store-shed 
should  be  condemned  to  fame  and  made  a  « temple" 
of!  Mr.  Flush  was  there  too,  with  Miss  Mirny  Hunter, 
and  other  ladies,  and  he  really,  at  first  sight,  looked  as 
if  he  was  very  much  overcome  by  his  self-reproaches, 
but  it  was  recollected  that  he  had  had  a  dreadful  time 
with  his  stomach  the  night  before,  so  after  all  it  might 
have  been  that.  And  Mr.  Tom  Sky  was  there,  in  his 
yellow  kids,  with  another  pew  full  of  ladies ;  but  he, 
on  the  contrary,  kept  looking  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hyme  right 
in  the  face  all  the  time,  except  when  he  bent  to  void 
his  tobacco  juice,  and,  altogether,  he  carried  it  off  as 
none  but  a  man  who  was  used  to  steamboat  explosions 
possibly  could  have  done. 

Everybody  went  home  piously  sharpened  up  for 
their  dinner,  over  which,  conjecture,  comment  and  sur 
prise  were  as  rife  as  ever.  And  now,  by  way  of  keep 
ing  up  the  excitement,  every  horse  and  every  vehicle 
was  chartered  for  the  afternoon,  and  juleps,  milk  punches, 
and  ten-pins,  out  of  town,  brought  round  the  evening. 
Manager  Dust  was  sought  for  in  vain,  while  the  editor 
of  the  Palladium  puffed  his  cigar,  arid  affected  a  close 

7 


74  THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE. 

knowledge  of  the  whole  affair,  his  conduct  being  an 
acted  illustration  of  his  article  for  the  next  morning,  in 
which  he  stated  that  "  motives  of  delicacy  dictated  a 
suppression  of  particulars,  for  the  present."  The 
theatrical  world  was  big  with  further  events,  which 
cast  their  shadows  before,  too,  not  the  least  ghastly  of 
which  was  the  classic  veteran,  Mr.  Waters,  who,  still 
muddled,  mysterious,  and  full  of  ill-defined,  but  indig 
nant  grandeur,  paced  the  bar-room  of.  the  hotel  ejacu 
lating  "pickles!"  and  screwing  his  face  about  as  if  in 
the  act  of  swallowing,  compulsorily,  a  very  sour  one. 


THE  GREAT  SMALL  AFFAIR  CHASTISEMENT. 

MONDAY  Morning!  The  Palladium  faithfully  appeared, 
giving  a  full  report  of  the  Great  Small  Affair  dinner — 
all  but  the  'possum,  that  dish  not  being  inserted  in  the 
carte  at  all.  A  brief  editorial  alluded  to  a  certain  "  un 
pleasant"  affair,  as  has  been  mentioned,  and  a  very 
long  and  enthusiastic  editorial  reminded  the  taste  and 
beauty  of  Pokerville,  that  the  amiable  and  "genius- 
gifted"  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  took  her  benefit  on  that  even 
ing. 

A  new  piece  was  to  be  performed,  and,  there  being 
a  positive  necessity  for  her  presence,  Miss  Fanny  Wil- 
kins,  though  seemingly  more  dead  than  alive,  made  her 
appearance  at  rehearsal ;  she  was  evidently  suffering, 
mentally,  from  some  cause  or  other,  though  what  it  was 
she  kept  to  herself;  and,  in  fact,  there  was  little  show 
of  sympathy  to  induce  confidence.  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust 
was  wrapt  in  gloom  and  distance,  at  the  prompt  ta1^ ' 


THE   DRAMA    IN    POKERVILLE.  76 

waiting  for  Mr.  Dust,  who  had  run  down  to  the  print 
ing  office ;  Mr.  Kemble  White,  striding  up  and  down 
over  a  new  part,  was  wrapt  up  in  future  greatness,  Mr. 
Waters  was  wrapt  up  in  a  misty  recollection  of  some 
extraordinary  circumstance  or  other  for  which  he  had  to 
apologize  ;  and  Mr.  Johnson  was  about  town,  borrow 
ing  properties.  Mr.  Fitzcarol  was  naturally  the  last 
person  who  would  hear  any  thing  in  the  way  of  scandal, 
never  dealing  in  the  article,  and,  besides,  he  had  spent 
the  day  before  in  exploring  the  hills  and  hollows,  not 
that  he  was  entirely  ignorant  that  Fanny  was  spoken 
against,  but  then  he  knew  that  Mrs.  Dust  couldn't  en 
dure  her,  and  the  other  followed,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Besides,  Fanny  had  never  invited  his  interference  in 
any  way,  and  he  had  too  much  delicacy  by  broaching 
the  subject,  to  make  her  think,  perhaps,  that  it  was 
necessary.  He  was  now  describing  to  her  the  incidents 
of  his  ramble,  and  suggesting  to  her  a  ride  over  the 
same  track  as  likely  to  do  her  good,  when  Mr.  John 
son  rushed  in  with  the  information  that  Dr.  Slunk,  pistol 
in  hand,  was  parading  before  the  door  of  the  theatre  ! 
Fanny  Wilkins  turned  pallid  and  nearly  fainted  at  the 
news.  There  was  a  general  thrill !  Something  desperate 
was  impending,  and  who  knew  who  might  not  come  in 
for  a  share  of  it !  Mrs.  Oscar  Dust  started  up,  her  face 
glowing  with  a  pent-up  rage. 

«  So,  Miss  Wilkins,  public  exposure  at  last !  shame 
ful  and  abandoned  ;  regardless  of  propriety  as  destruc 
tive  of  the  best  interests  of  the  establishment !  Dis 
appointment,  dismissal,  and  disgrace,  Miss ;  these  are 
your  appeals  to  public  notice !  closed  on  Saturday ; 
ruined  again  to  night ;  disgraceful !" 

The  indignant  manageress  took  several  short  turns, 


76  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

of  the  entire  breadth  of  the  proscenium,  whilst  Fanny, 
first  flushing  up  to  her  temples,  assayed  to  speak,  but, 
choking  with  emotion,  changed  to  a  burst  of  passionate 
sobs  and  tears.  Mr.  Fitzcarol  was  all  amazement .' 
"  Gracious  me  !"  said  he,  «  this  is  very  strange— very ! 
It  is  cruel — distinctly  it  is !  You  charge  Miss  Wilkins, 
madam,  with  misconduct!  I'll  see  what  this  gentleman 
m*ans  myself!"  He  turned  to  go,  but  ere  making  a 
step  Fanny  stopped  him  with  almost  a  wild  earnest 
ness. 

"  No ! — no  ! — not  for  the  world,  Mr.  Fitzcarol !  It 
w  me  he  wishes  to  see, — for  Heavens  sake  not  you ! 
I'll  go  to  him !"  arid  while  all  stood  motionless  in  sur 
prise,  she  dropped  her  veil  and  walked  rapidly  without. 

Mr.  Dust  was  coming  as  rapidly  down  the  street  as 
his  yet  unsteady  legs  would  permit,  when  what  was  his 
surprise  to  see  Dr.  Slunk — a  patch  on  one  side  of  his 
face,  and  a  terrible  swelling  on  the  other — his  eyes,  too, 
inflamed  as  if  with  other  stimulant  than  passion — ad 
vancing  in  swaggering  triumph  with  Miss  Fanny 
Wilkins  on  his  arm,  and  followed  at  a  short  distance 
by  Mr.  Jake  Bagly  and  a  crowd  as  leering  and  chuck 
ling  as  himself. 

«  Why,  doctor— ah " 

"  How  are  you,  Dust,"  said  the  doctor,  patronizingly, 
assuming  a  familiar  air  with  Fanny,  at  the  same  time. 

«Ah-a,  Miss  Wilkins,"  continued  the  manager, 
"  the  rehearsal  is  surely  not  over !" 

"The  fact  is,  Dust,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  must 
spare  Miss  Fanny  this  morning,  for  I  can't ;  she  has 
an  engagement  with  me,  now !" 

A  laugh  from  the  crowd  behind  was  heard,  and  with 
a  shudder  Fanny  pressed  forward. 


THE  DRAMA  IN   POKERVILLE.  77 

«  She'll  be  all  right  at  night,  Dust!"  cried  Slunk, 
using  a  theatrical  phrase,  jeeringly,  and  in  another  mo 
ment  the  manager  was  surrounded  by  Bagly  and  his 
«  crowd."  He  was  quizzed  and  slapped  on  the  back, 
and  « old  hoss'd,"  when,  suddenly,  he  felt  himself, 
also,  grasped  by  the  collar,  and  the  next,  a  stinging, 
whizzing,  cutting,  maddening  shower  of  lashes,  from 
a  cowskin,  saluted  his  back  and  shoulders !  Now  rose 
such  a  mingled  yelling-shout,  scream  and  laughter — as 
never  had  been  heard  in  Pokerville. 

«  Hats  off" — «  Encore" — «  Music" — «  Go  it,  major" 
— Keep  up  the  Dust" — "A  little  more  'possum" — 
"First  time  this  season" — « Particular  request,"  &c. 
In  the  mean  time,  exercising  unusual  activity,  and  with 
the  most  eager  desire  in  the  world  to  «  explain,"  if  he 
might  only  be  permitted,  Manager  Dust  threw  himself 
into  more  positions  than  ever  he  had  studied  for  the 
revolving  statues !  Whack — thwack,  came  the  blows : 
skip — slip — trip  went  the  manager;  Hurraw  !  went  the 
crowd,  till,  finally,  as  coolly  as  could  be,  Major  Slope 
emptied  his  mouth  of  an  accumulation  of  tobacco 
juice,  let  go  of  Mr.  Dust's  collar,  and  then,  merely  re 
marking  that  the  next  time  that  gentleman  wished  to 
correspond  with  him  (the  major)  he  hoped  that  he  (the 
major)  might  be  permitted  to  write  his  own  replies,  he 
(the  major)  took  a  fresh  chew  and  walked  off.  < 

This  was  an  unparalleled  proceeding.  The  aston 
ished  Small  Affair  Manager  appealed  to  the  crowd  if  it 
wasn't?  A  man  who  had  forced  attentions  upon  him! 
one  whose  house  and  household  had  been  placed  at  his 
disposal !  Their  wives  bosom  friends !  In  his  whole 
career  he  had  never  felt  so  amazed !  He  could  not  be 
lieve  it  even  then !  It  wasn't  real !  In  fact,  it  hadn't 


78  THE  DRAMA  IN  POKERV1LLE. 

taken  place !  Manager  Dust,  however,  rubbed  his  shoul 
ders,  and  evinced  an  uneasiness  under  his  broadcloth, 
rather  indicative  of  the  painful  truth  of  the  matter ;  but 
the  «  gentlemen  of  the  company"  now  appearing,  he 
was  again  seized  with  an  anxiety  regarding  the  rehear 
sal  ;  he  hoped  that  Mr.  Fitzcarol  would  ascertain  when 
Miss  Wiikins  would  probably  be  down ;  and  he  begged 
that  Mr.  White  would  at  once  return  with  him,  and 
what  with  his  wriggling  his  shoulders,  and  his  business 
airs  with  "  the  company,"  and  his  keeping  it  up  with 
the  crowd,  he  had  more  on  his  hands  than  even  the 
Napoleon  of  Small  Affairs  could  get  along  with !  He 
finally  sloped  with  a  lively  step  for  the  theatre,  and  the 
screaming  crowd  took  their  way  to  the  hotel. 

Miss  Fanny  Wiikins  sat  in  her  room,  apparently  ren 
dered  speechless  by  the  tumult  of  her  emotions;  Doc 
tor  Slunk,  with  a  malignant  enjoyment,  sat  familiarly 
near  her,  and  Cynthy,  with  one  hand  on  the  door,  as  if 
to  keep  it  open,  stood  glow'ring  and  puckering  out  her 
huge  lips,  when  a  tap  was  heard,  and  Mr.  Fitzcarol 
respectfully  made  his  obeisance.  Doctor  Slunk's  brows 
contracted,  and  he  started  up. 

«  Well,  sir,"  he  cried,  "what  do  you  want?" 

Fanny  Wilkins's  simple,  pretty,  round  little  face,  pre 
sented  every  hollow,  line,  and  angle,  of  affright  and 
desolation. 

« Miss  Wiikins,"  said  Fitzcarol,  "in  spite  of  your 
prohibition,  I  have  called  to  interpose  between  you 
and  a  gentleman  whose  strange  conduct,  it  really  ap 
pears  to  me,  you  seem  to  compel  yourself  to  submit 
to.  You  know  I  would  not  take  a  liberty " 

"/know  you  lie,  sir!"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  swell- 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  79 

ing  with  passion,  «  but  by  G-d,  you  will  no  longer  take 
them  here !  Tell  him  so,  Miss !"  . 

«Tell  me  rather,  Miss  Fanny,"  said  the  vocalist, 
with  quite  a  tinge  of  colour  on  his  cheek,  <<  that  I  may 
take  a  liberty—that  of  throwing  this  insulting  fellow 
out  of  the  window !" 

This  was  said  in  a  calm,  I-mean-what-I-say  sort  of 
tone,  and  Slunk's  face  changed  from  purple  to  blue, 
and  from  blue  to  green,  and  his  glance  became  unset 
tled  for  an  instant. 

"Oh,  go  ! — go  ! — he  will  kill  you!"  shrieked  Fan 
ny  ;  and,  as  if  challenged  to  maintain  his  character  by 
the  cry,  the  chamelion-complexioned  hero  drew  a  pis 
tol  ;  but  while  in  the  act  of  aiming  it,  Cynthy  threw  a 
pillow  in  his  face,  and  under  that  cover  rushed  forward 
and  pinioned  his  arms  in  her  embrace. 

«  You  aint  a  gwine  to  do  no  shootin'  here,  massa 
doc  !"  cried  Cynthy ;  "  I  carry  you  down  stairs,  and 
drap  you  for  sure !" 

The  doctor  cursed  and  struggled,  but  he  was  no 
thing  in  the  hands  of  the  huge  wench,  big  as  he  was. 
On  his  finally  abandoning  his  attempts,  she  snatched 
the  weapon  from  his  hand,  and  released  him. 

"  You  black  devil !"  roared  the  doctor. 

«  Wai,  I  is  some,  for  sure,  Massa  Slunk !"  chuckled 
Cynthy,  and  then  she  whistled  carelessly,  by  way  of  a 
crow  over  her  triumph. 

"  As  for  you,  you  d — d  strolling  death's-head,"  said 
the  doctor,  complimenting  the  singer,  at  the  same  time 
going  towards  the  door,  «  if  you  think  your  ears  essen 
tial  to  your  beauty,  you'll  have  to  fight  for  them!" 
With  a  fierce  look,  and  a  fiercer  slam  of  the  door,  he 
disappeared. 


80  THE  DRAMA   IN  POKERVILLE. 

«  He'll  kill  you !  He'll  kill  you !"  cried  poor  Fan,- 
ny,  wringing  her  hands  ;  «  He  sent  me  a  message,  this 
morning,  that  he  would  do  so,  the  next  time  he  found 
you  in  my  company !  I  left  the  theatre  with  him  to 
prevent  him  shooting  you !" 

And  now  that  Fanny  had  commenced  her  story,  she 
soon  relieved  her  heart  by  detailing  a  series  of  insults 
and  persecutions,  to  make  the  coolest  blood  boil  again. 
Immediately  on  her  arrival  in  town,  Slunk  had  thrown 
himself  in  her  way ;  when  disappointed  in  his  expecta 
tions  of  a  reception,  he  had  addressed  notes  to  her, 
the  first  of  which  Cynthy  had  been  the  bearer  of,  but 
soon  learning  to  sympathize  with  the  friendless  girl,  the 
kindly  wench  had  turned  round  and  became  her  body 
guard  in  the  house,  as  Fitzcarol  had  been  her  pro 
tection,  unknowingly,  out  of  it.  Even  locked  within 
^Jkt ^chamber,  she  had  not  been  free  from  alarm ;  a  thou- 
-^"ScnilHngenious  cruelties  had  been  resorted  to,  while, 
abroad,  the  words  and  manner  of  her  persecutor  com 
promised  her  as  effectually  as  if  she  had  been  guilty, 
as  has  been  seen.  Without  a  soul  to  look  to  for  de 
fence — isolated  from  the  company,  save  in  the  case  of 
the  good-natured  vocalist,  whose  personal  safety,  she 
shuddered  as  she  thought,  she  was  endangering — the 
poor  girl  had  given  herself  up  to  a  despair,  which  had 
finally  laid  her  on  a  bed  of  sickness. 

"  Yes,  an*  dat's  all  you  knows,  Miss  Fanny,"  said 
Cynthy,  with  a  strange  twinkling  of  her  eyes,  «  but  de 
debbil  gin  Massa  Slunk  goss,  night  'fore  las',  I  reck 
on  !"  and  here  she  laughed  with  a  mirth  that  was  un 
accountable. 

"  You  doesn't  know  nuffin,  Miss  Fanny,  kase  you 
was  fas'  asleep,  an'  sick  an'  moanin',  and  I  jes'  kept 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKERVXLLE.  81 

shady  ever  since.  Well,  night  'fore  las',  I  know'd 
you'd  want  me,  kase  I  guessed  wot  Massa  Doc  was 
arter,  wen  I  see  him  look  so  brae  at  him  wittles,  an' 
so  you  know  I  cum  in  to  sleep  in  your  room,  Miss 
Fanny,  same  as  ebery  other  night,  kase  you  'fraid  to 
sleep  alone,  an'  'way  long  in  de  night,  I  hears  a  sorter 
pushin'  at  de  winder.  I  kep'  shady,  Miss  Fanny, 
bress  de  Lord,  I  did — no  light  dar — an'  bime-by  a  man 
pushes  de  winder  clar  up,  an'  I  sees  it  was  de  doctor, 
on  a  ladder.  You  needn't  feel  skeer'd,  Miss  Fanny, 
I  was  dar,  all  shady, — and  jes'  as  he  goes  to  puttin1 
in  one  leg  he  kotch  it,  lor'  a  massy,  Miss  Fanny,  all 
dis  big  double  fis'  \vicl  de  bones  in,  right  spang  in  de 
eyes,  and  down  he  drapped  wid  de  ladder  over  him, 
an'  I  kep'  shady  still,  jes'  to  see  if  he  was  gwine  to 
try  it  agin,  Miss  Fanny !  Wall,  he  lay  dar  so  quiet, 
dat  I  goes  down  an'  puts  away  de  ladder,  jes'  to  bod- 
der  'em,  an'  den  I  goes  and  wakes  up  Massa  Jake 
Bagly,  an'  de  poor  silly  niggers  all  over  de  place  jes* 
swar  for  sartin  it  was  de  debbil,  an'  guess  Massa  Slunk 
tink  so,  too,  for  he  nebber  get  hit  dat  way  afore,  for 
sure !" 

The  wench  wound  up  her  story  with  a  convulsion 
of  laughter,  and  Fanny  and  the  vocalist  were  equally 
wrapt  up  in  amazement,  at  the  atrocity  of  the  attempt, 
and  the  manner  of  its  defeat ;  it  was  indeed  news  to 
both  of  them. 

« Is  it  possible,"  at  length  said  Fitzcarol,  « that  you 
have  been  exposed  to  these  outrages!  As  sure  as 
I'm  alive,  Miss  Fanny,  I  will  punish  that  man  se 
verely." 

«  Oh,  do  not  interfere ;  you  are  not  used  to  fight 
ing  !"  cried  Fanny ;  and  this  was  accompanied  by  a 


82  THE    DRAMA    IN    POKERV1LLE. 

look  of  generous  pity,  as  it  were,  for  the  disfigured 
vocalist's  fancy,  that  he  could  even  acquire  a  know 
ledge  of  that  accomplishment ! 

"But  I  wUl  fight,  Miss  Fanny,  and  he  shall  fight! 
He  has  insulted  us  all,  and  I  mil  fight !" 

"And  can  you  really  fight,  Mr.  Fitzcarol  ?"  said 
Fanny,  with  an  innocent  yet  anxious  air  of  in 
quiry. 

"I  never  have,  Miss  Fanny,"  replied  Fitz,  "but 
that  man  is  a  ruffian,  and -it  is  impossible  that  he  can 
stand  before  a  gentleman,  fairly." 

Fanny's  pale  cheek  grew  red,  her  eyes  sparkled,  and, 
as  if  suddenly  assured,  she  started  from  her  chair  and 
took  her  champion's  hands : 

"  Then  fight  him,  Mr.  Fitzcarol !  Fight  him !  pun 
ish  him  ! — not  because  he  has  insulted  met  but  because 
he  could,  under  any  circumstances,  oppress  a  poor 
lone  girl !  Fight  him,  and  I  will  pray  for  you  !  Fight 
him,  and  I  will  thank  you — bless  you — love  you  all 
my  life » 

Fanny's  torrent  of  emotion  was  checked  by  a  knock 
at  the  door.  Mr.  Bagly  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Fitzcarol, 
down  stairs, — and  Mr.  Fitzcarol  was  eager  at  once  to 
see  Mr.  Bagly,  for  he  brought  a  challenge,  no  doubt — 
and,  with  Fanny's  earnest  gratitude  ringing  in  the  vo 
calist's  ears,  and  her  tearful  yet  sparkling  eyes  glitter 
ing  in  his  brain,  he  felt  more  like  a  hero  than  if  he 
had  twice  his  nose !  He  was  occupying  "  a  position !" 
He  was,  in  large  letters,  a  star !  yes,  he  was  once  more 
"  a  feature !" 

Mr.  Bagly  had  brought  a  challenge,  which  was  ac 
cepted  at  once,  and  Fitz  was  just  endeavouring  to 
think  of  «  a  friend,"  when  he  saw  the  'editor  of  the 


THE  DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  83 

Palladium,  who,  among  his  limited  acquaintance, 
would  probably  do  as  well  as  any  other.  Mr.  Case 
was  very  sorry,  lamented  the  necessity,  &c.,  but  it  was 
good  matter  for  the  paper,  and  Mr.  Case  would  serve, 
certainly.  He  retired  with  Mr.  Bagly,  and,  after  a 
time,  returned  to  tell  his  principal  that  every  thing 
was  arranged  for  half  an  hour  after  dinner — pistols, 
ten  paces,  back  of  the  grave-yard,  &c.  The  hour  was 
an  unusual  one,  but  the  thing  would  be  settled  the 
sooner;  and,  after  all,  it  was  much  more  sensible  to 
fight  on  roast-beef  and  brandy  and  water,  than  on  a 
biscuit  and  cup  of  coffee.  Mr.  Fitz  was  equally  satis 
fied  with  the  arrangement,  and  the  philosophy  of  it, 
and  so  went  to  take  a  long  walk,  happier  in  Miss 
Fanny's  heart-kindling  warmth  of  gratitude  than  he 
had  been  since  his  first  triumphant  success  in  Count 
Belino  ! 


THE  GREAT  SMALL  AFFAIR  DUEL. 

THE  Pokerville  dinners  were  proverbially  fast,  but 
there  never  had  been  such  time  made  as  ajt  the  hotel 
on  this  occasion !  It  was  a  single  dash  ;  and  from  the 
start,  on  bacon  and  greens,  to  the  come  home,  on  ap 
ple-pie,  it  was  whip  and  spifr,  and  no  mistake  about 
it !  It  was  to  be  none  of  your  sneaking,  shivering, 
break  o'  day  duels,  but  a  sociable  meeting  for  the 
benefit  of  all,  and,  apparently,  all  were  determined  to 
avail  themselves  of  it.  And  now,  in  order  that  Poker 
ville  should  have  no  advantage  over  the  reader,  he 
had  better  be  let,  at  once,  into  the  town  secret,  namely, 


84  THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE. 

that  it  was  to  be  a  sham  duel,  at  the  expense  of  the 
town-quiz,  <«  Old  Figurehead  ;"  otherwise  the  «  Fea 
ture  ;"  otherwise  Mr.  Fitzcarol !  It  was  another  of 
Mr.  Jake  Bagly's  ideas,  who,  since  the  brilliant  suc 
cess  of  the  'possum  and  murder  hoaxes,  was  a  «  big 
dog"  as  well  as  the  doctor,  and  could  do  as  he 
«  d— d  pleased,"  any  how  !  He  proposed  it ;  the 
doctor  objected,  swearing  he'd  have  a  sure  enough 
shot ;  but  then  he  reflected  that  he'd  have  to  stand 
a  sure  enough  shot  in  return,  and  so  he  gradually 
yielded  to  his  friend's  arguments ;  which  were,  that 
the  singer,  being  made  to  believe  that  he  had  killed 
his  antagonist,  and  being  threatened  with  a  lynch 
ing,  would  leave  town  at  once,  and  so  yield  the 
field  and  Fanny  to  his  rival,  without  the  fuss  of  an 
inquest,  burial,  &c.  Doctor  Slunk  hated  his  an 
tagonist  heartily,  for,  albeit,  he  had  commenced  by 
despising  him,  yet  his  own  lack  of  success  with  Fan 
ny  had  taught  him  jealousy  of  another,  and,  finally, 
if  it  were  not  the  vocalist  who  had  knocked  him  off 
the  ladder,  who  the  d — 1  could  it  have  been  ?  How 
ever,  he  consented  ;  and  Mr.  Case,  of  the  Palladium, 
did  not  require  much  urging,  either,  to  join  in  the 
laugh  against  such  a  «  soft  shell"  as  his  phiz-battered 
principal  was,  and  so  the  word  was  passed  about,  and 
all  was  settled. 

The  grave-yard  was  just  back  of  Pokerville  ;  and 
just  back  of  the  grave-yard,  between  the  wall  and  the 
wood,  was  a  retired  little  strip  of  grass,  very  much 
frequented  by  cattle,  and  which,  these  latter  driven 
from  their  ruminations,  would  answer  very  well  as  a 
duelling-ground. 

The  grave-yard  wall  was  lined  with  heads,  and  from 


THE   DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  85 

behind  every  tree,  on  the  other  side,  stood  'a  peeping 
spectator.  In  the  centre,  stood  a  group  composed  of 
Dr.  Slunk,  his  second,  and  surgeon  ;  and  now,  amid  a 
very  becoming  gravity,  (Pokerville  wags  being  famous 
for  thin  faces,)  Mr.  Busby  Case  drove  up  with  his  prin 
cipal.  The  "  feature"  got  out  quietly,  received  the 
case  of  pistols  ;  Mr.  Case  hitched  his  horse,  and  « the 
parties"  confronted  each  other.  -  Dr.  Slunk's  air  was 
implacable,  and  Mr.  Bagly's  was  haughty ;  the  surgeon 
had  already  made  formidable  parade  of  his  instru 
ments,  and  there  was  bloody  work  in  preparation,  sure 
as  shooting.  Mr.  Bagly  had  a  few  words  with  his 
principal,  who  drew  himself  up  twice  as  stitfly  ;  and 
Mr.  Case  had  a  few  words  with  his  principal,  who 
merely  pointed  to  the  pistol  case ;  and  then  the  two 
seconds  approached,  and  then  the  pistols  were  loaded, 
and  there  was  a  toss-up  for  choice  of  them,  and  another 
toss-up  for  the  word  ;  and  then  the  ground  was  mea 
sured,  and  then  the  parties  were  placed.  The  bob- 
bing-up  from  behind  the  wall  and  from  behind  the  trees 
was  very  active  now,  for  a  minute  ;  but  each  got  his 
agreeable  point  of  sight,  and  things  went  on  once  more 
very  decorously.  Somehow  or  other  the  «  feature"  had 
not  shown  the  least  uneasiness  or  alarm,  so  far,  and 
there  was  nothing  to  laugh  at.  He  was  there  prepared 
coolly  to  behave  like  a  man  ;  and  some  few,  who  were 
not  altogether  satisfied  that  Dr.  Slunk  was  Julius 
Caesar,  began  to  wish  that  it  was  a  downright  test  of 
behaviour  on  both  parts. 

«  Gentlemen,"  said  Dave  Bagly,  in  a  severe  voice, 
as  if  in  full  militia  uniform,  «  attention !  You  remem 
ber  the  terms :  fire  between  one  and  three.  We  have 
the  word :  Are  you  ready  ?" 

8 


86  THE    DRAMA    TO    POKERVILLE. 

The  word  was  given — the  discharges  were  together 
— when  Dr.  Slunk  dropped  his  pistol  and  staggered  ! 
Taking  his  hand  away  from  his  side,  there  appeared  a 
dismal  blotch  of  blood,  and  now,  in  the  act  of  "  biting 
the  dust,"  he  suddenly  arrested  his  fall  and  stood  up 
again,  as  if  looking  for  a  clean  place  ;  for,  as  has  been 
remarked,  the  cows  had  been  there,  and  the  doctor  had 
but  just  escaped  them,  curse  them !  He  now  fell  as 
if  very  dead ;  but  his  balk  had  raised  a  scream  of 
laughter  from  every  throat,  and  his  antagonist,  sur 
prised  at  it,  also  seemed  to  be  suddenly  struck  with 
the  truth,  and,  collaring  Mr.  Busby  Case,  he  demanded 
to  know  if  he  had  been  trifled  with  ? 

«  N-n-ow,  don't  be  angry !"  Mr.  Case  would  have 
said  ;  but  his  first  stammer  was  enough,  and,  before  he 
could  articulate  a  syllable,  he  received  a  sling  and  a 
kick  that  sent  him  headlong  under  his  own  buggy ! 
Two  springs,  and  the  « feature"  had  Dr.  Slunk  and 
and  AM  second  by  their  respective  collars!  Cheer 
after  cheer  now  broke  from  every  side,  and  the  crowd 
gathering  round,  with  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling, 
not  one  among  them  but  would  have  heartily  seen  the 
two  captive  contrivers  kicked  into  fits  first,  and  into 
the  river  afterwards.  Mr.  Dave  Bagly  drew  his  bowie- 
knife  ;  but  dropped  it  immediately,  as  Tom  Sky  popped 
into  the  «  feature's"  hand  a  revolver,  while  the  doctor, 
with  his  green  look,  endeavored  to  smile,  but  only  to 
make  his  ugly  captor  thrice  handsome  by  comparison. 

"  Gentlemen,  all,"  said  the  vocalist,  as  if  afraid  of 
indulging  his  passion,  « I  am  entirely  unused  to  these 
affairs.  I  hardly  know  the  etiquette;  but,  really,  I 
think  I  ought  to  cut  the  ears  from  these  persons!" 

"Go  it '."cried  a  dozen  voices;  "put  it  to  'em, 


THE  DRAMA   IN    POKERVILLE.  87 

Fitz ;  you're  a  team,  by  thunder !"  «  D  d  shame, 
any  how."  "  Can't  bluff  you,  old  hoss."  «  No  back 
out,"  &c.  &c. 

A  tremendous  big  boatman  now  whipped  a  cord  out 
of  his  pocket,  bound  the  hands  of  Slunk  and  his  second, 
and  then  jraade  a  dart  at  Mr.  Busby  Case ;  but  that 
sufficiently  cautioned  gentleman,  already  in  his  buggy, 
now  set  off,  express ,  for  the  Palladium  office.  "No 
other  paper  had  the  news"  on  that  occasion  distinctly. 

The  «  First  singer" — and  wasn't  he  a  first  singer 
in  this  business  ? — would  not  push  his  triumph  to  ex 
tremity  ;  nor  is  it  necessary  to  detail  all  Dr.  Slunk's 
dogged  apologies  and  acknowledgments.  Suffice,  that 
all  Pokerville  "  got  the  hang"  of  the  Miss  Wilkins's 
mystery  at  last ;  that  she  was  a  confessed  angel  at  once, 
and  that  her  champion  was  the  only  feature  in  town  ! 
As  for  Cynthy,  she  received  more  dresses,  and  shoos, 
and  half-hand  kerchiefs,  and  half  dollars,  than  she 
knew  what  to  do  with,  while  her  midnight  achieve 
ment  was  sung  to  banjo  accompaniments  on  every 
plantation  in  the  neighbourhood. 

The  Dust  party  was  nowhere !  There  wasn't  enough 
of  it  left  to  render  a  broom  necessary.  The  benefit 
was  another  dismiss  ;  and,  moreover,  two  weeks'  salary 
being  due  next  morning,  and  Manager  D.  having  been 
cleaned  out  on  the  Saturday  night  previous,  all  he  had 
to  do  was  to  bring  his  season  to  a  premature  close, 
and  leave  his  foundation  in  Pokerville  to  be  built  on- 
by  some  more  fortunate  architect. 

But  wasn't  there  a  house  a  few  nights  afterwards, 
when  Miss  Fanny  Wilkins's  complimentary  concert 
carne  off?  Not  only  Mrs.  Major  Slope,  but  Mr.  Major 
Slope  «  patronized"  it  heartily ;  while  Mrs.  Store-shed 


88  THE  DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE, 

Wilson,  and  even  Parson  Hyme's  strict  church  mem 
bers,  turned  out  en  masse,  more  particularly  as  it  wasn't 
to  «  a  play."  The  editor  of  the  Palladium  made  the 
amende  honorable,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  and 
even  acted  as  door-keeper,  simply  keeping  out  of  the 
receipts  the  amount  of  "  the  bills  ;"  and,  when  all  the 
encores  were  over,  and  Mr.  Fitzcarol  got  quite  as 
many  of  them  as  the  other  "feature,"  and  the  wreath 
was  thrown,  and  the  gentleman  led  forward  the  lady  to 
crown  her,  and  did  it  very  gallantly  "  at  that,"  amid 
the  applause  and  enthusiasm,  there  was  more  than  one 
who  whispered  that  they  «  wouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised 
if  it  were  a  match,  after  all." 


WHAT  WAS  BUILT  ON  THE  GREAT  SMALL 
AFFAIR  FOUNDATION. 

IN  these  latter-day  times,  it  is  but  a  small  skip  from 
Pokerville  to  one  of  the  large  Atlantic  cities ;  so,  if 
you  please,  in  one  of  them,  tolerably  up  town,  you  will 
imagine  a  snug  little  house  standing  back,  with  a  grass- 
plat  in  front;  and,  now,  walking  in  with  us,  you  will 
see  in  the  back  room  a  tidy,  round  little  woman,  laugh 
ing  all  over  her  face,  and  clapping  her  hands,  and,  ever 
and  anon,  running  up  to  a  bed  and  poking  her  finger 
into  the  fat  sides  of  an  «  uncommon  fine  child,"  which 
lies  there  crowing  and  kicking  up  its  rosy  little  feet, 
and  exposing  itself  in  the  highest  style  of  infantile 
abandon. 

It  is  all  nonsense  to  attempt  the  baby-talk ;  suffice 
that  it  was  florid  to  a  degree,  and  might  have  puzzled 


THE  DRAMA  IN   POKERVILLE.  89 

the  most  apt  interpreter  of  maternal  rapture.  One  little 
gush,  though,  from  its  constant  repetition,  might  be 
safely  ventured,  and  that  was,  that  the  «  Dod-a-bessed, 
had  faser's  eyes,  and  faser's  mouse,  and  faser's  nosey, 
too!" 

In  the  midst  of  the  exercise,  a  carriage  was  heard  to 
drive  up  «without,  and,  running  to  the  front  window, 
the  little  woman  heightened  her  smile  by  a  rosy  flush 
and  a  radiant  sparkle  that  rendered  her,  actually,  little 
less  than  an  illumination! 

.  "  Why,  I  declare,"  cried  she,  « if  Fitz  hasn't  brought 
home  Mam'selle  Nathalie  to  see  baby !" 

And  wasn't  the  door  thrown  open,  and  the  hall-chairs 
set  back  for  the  richest  kind  of  a  dress,  shawl,  &c., 
garbing  as  they  did  a  really  kind  and  benevolent  crea 
ture;  albeit  she  did  certainly  put  the  screws  to  the 
managers  awfully  during  her  "  extraordinary  successful 
engagements,"  which  invariably  closed  the  theatre  for 
the  rest  of  the  season ! 

"  Well,  you  are  so  kind,  mam'selle— yes,  the  passage 
is  too  narrow,  and  the  chains  shall  come  out,  Fitz. 
This  way,  mam'selle  ;  I  know  what  you've  come  to 
see ;  and  it's  been  laughing  and  crowing  so  all  the 
morning,  just  as  if  it  knew  you  were  coming.  There, 
now,  take  off  your  hat,  and,  Fitz,  you  get  a  glass  of 
wine,  and — stop,  now  stop — don't  look  yet, — there  I 
Don't  you  hear  it  ?  Coo-oo-oo-oo." 

«  Fanny,  Fanny,"  said  Mr.  Fitzcarol,  with  a  tone  of 
indulgent  censure,  yet  with  a  round  smile  circling  the 
zig-zag  of  his  usual  expression,  «  what  a  fool  you  do 
make  of  yourself  with  that  child.  Let  me  show  it  to 
you,  mam'selle  ; — coo-oo-oo-oo" — 

And  then  Mr.  Fitz  poked  his  fingers  in  its  sides, 
8* 


90  THE   DRAMA    IN   POKERVILLE. 

and  dandled,  and  danced  it,  and,  finally,  after  a  score 
of  kisses  all  round,  it  was  put  back  on  the  bed,  and 
there  was  a  comparative  calm  in  the  house. 

And  this  was  the  celebrated  Mam'selle  Nathalie, 
now  the  idol  of  both  hemispheres,  the  queen  of  the 
ballet,  the  preservation  of  whose  legs,  years  before,  as 
has  been  mentioned,  cost  poor  unselfish  Mr.»Fitecarol 
alike  his  "position"  and  his  nose!  The  ci-devant 
«<  feature"  had  at  length  settled  down  into  obscurity 
and  a  good  salary,  as  prompter  of  a  leading  theatre, 
where  his  steadiness  and  conscientious  observance  of. 
duty  made  him  an  « invaluable  man,"  and  where  his 
cheerful,  grateful,  and  affectionate  little  wife,  with  her 
bright  face  and  naive  manners,  was  a  perfect  «  pet"— • 
and  an  unspoiled  one — as  the  representative  of  every 
possible  description  of  smart,  tidy,  piquant  little  body 
in  cap,  ribands,  and  apron.  Mam'selle  Nathalie  had 
thus  found  her  old  acquaintance,  and,  full  of  lively 
recollection — for  the  indescribably  sweet  smile  which 
gave  witchery  to  her  other  graces  had  its  origin  in  a 
refined  nature — she  had  taken  the  first  opportunity  of 
evincing  the  interest  she  took  in  his  unostentatious 
menage. 

«  Ah,  'tis  sweet  enfant,  Monsieur  Feets  ;  and  'tis  ver 
like  you,  too,  mon  cher  ogly,  old  fren,  for  I  see  <  Otel- 
lo's  visage  en  his  face,'  comme  say  you  grand  poote 
Shakspierre !" 

If  she  had  said  «  in  his  mind"  she  would  have  been 
nearer  the  author,  but  it  was  pretty  well  for  a  French 
quotation  of  him,  and  it  pleased  papa  amazingly.  The 
truth  is,  he  had  experienced  much  anxiety  of  mind 
with  regard  to  the  expected  baby's  probable  mould  of 
feature;  for  albeit  "faser's  nose"  is  always  the  first 


THE   DRAMA   IN   POKERVILLE.  91 

trait  to  trace  the  desired  resemblance  in,  he  was  not 
exactly  sure,  being  in  all  things  a  primitive  creature, 
but  that  a  broken  nasus,  especially  one  of  such  long 
standing,  might  transmit  itself,  What  was  his  satisfac 
tion,  then,  to  find  the  young  one  just  as  much  a  roman 
as  if  he  had  been  born  years  before !  It  showed,  too, 
that  beneath  his  present  mask  mam'selle  saw,  gratefully, 
only  the  good-looking  face  of  her  early  friend,  the 
"first  singer.' 

"  Do  you  know,  mam'selle,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Fanny, 
« that  is  what  I'm  always  telling  him,  though  he  only 
says  <  pshaw !'  I  can  see  every  line  of  his  face,  in  ba 
by's,  just  as  well  as  I  can  see  my  own  in  a  glass ;  and 
I  know  by  that  just  exactly  how  he  looked  before  his 
accident,  poor  fellow ; — not  that  that  makes  any  differ 
ence,  for  I  do  believe  I  love  him  twice  as  well  for  it;— 
and  when  I  remember  that  I  used  at  one  time  to  think 
him  almost  a  fright,  I  love  him  twice  as  well  for  that — 
for  he  risked  his  life  for  me,  mam'selle ;  and,  more 
than  that,  he  saved  me  from  insult  and  undeserved 
shame ;  he  did,  and  without  expectation  of  return,  or 
even  the  idea  that  I  ever  could  love  him — my  poor 
dear  Fitz!"  And  here  the  little  woman  "ioo-AooV 
right  out,"  as  the  orientals  of  Varmount  have  it,  and 
threw  herself  incontinently  full  on  to  his  breast,  and 
hung  round  his  neck,  and  went  on  in  a  surprising  way 
for  such  a  mere  artificial  as  an  actress. 

The  great  "  star"  wiped  her  eyes,  and  $en  kissed 
sobbing  Mrs.  Fanny,  fondly,  and  shook  the  overcome 
prompter  feelingly  by  the  hand,  and  finally  kissed  and 
hugged  the  baby,  once  more,  as  if  it  had  been  her  own. 
By  this  time,  all  were  smiling  again  and  saying, 
"pshaw,  how  foolish !"  And,  now,  mam'selle  declared 


92  THE   DRAMA   IN   POKEEVILLE. 

her  intention  of  staying  to  dinner,  spending  the  after- 
and  riding  down  to  the  theatre  for  the  perform 
ance  ;  an  arrangement  which  just  put  the  last  inde 
scribable  tint  upon  the  coleur  de  rose  of  the  most  oddly- 
paired  and  happiest  couple  that  ever  "  smelt  the  lamps." 

"Curtain  bell,"  as  they  have  it  in  the  prompt-books; 
so  once  more  imagine  the  snug  dinner,  and  the  cheerful 
chat,  and  the  broken  English,  and  the  sprinkle  of  mu 
sic,  and  the  cup  of  delicious  tea,  and  the  announce 
ment  of  «  carriage  is  come ;  and,  last  of  all,  as  being 
the  most  fitting  moment,  the  kind  offer  of  mam'selle  to 
dance  "  one  leetle  pas"  for  the  benefit  of  her  old 
«  D/eu"  preserver ! 

It  was  proper — just — but  more,  it  was  delicately  done, 
and  the  gratitude  it  earned  was  as  that  due  to  a  sister! 
It  was  a  handsome  instalment  oil  a  great  debt,  but  its 
chief  value  was  in  the  rich  music  of  the  heart  which  it 
inspired,  on  both  sides.  And  now,  with  the  applica 
tion  for  places  ringing  in  our  ears,  and  the  comfortable 
consequences  revealing  themselves  to  our  ready  per 
ceptions  of  the  agreeable,  we  tuck  up  the  baby,  leave 
thrice  repeated,  and  every  way  unnecessary  injunctions 
with  the  sufficiently  experienced  nurse,  look  at  the  fire, 
blow  out  the  candle,  pack  ourselves  with  a  band-box 
into  the  carriage  along  with  the  happy  "star"  and 
doubly  happy  lesser  lights,  and  leaving  them  at  the 
brilliant  and  already  crowded  theatre,  we  light  a  cigar, 
with  the  reflection,  "Well,  thus  much  good,  at  least, 
came  of  the  foundation  of  THE  DRAMA  IN  POKER  VILLE!" 


THE  BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN. 


JURYTOWN  is  the  greatest  place  in  the  west,  as  every* 
body  knows ;  and  the  next  tallest  thing  to  its  liberty* 
pole,  is  its  court-house,  which  beats  its  big  hotel  all  to 
smash,  though  it  ain't  half  finished  either.  When 
said  court-house  shall  get  its  pillars  up,  and  its  pave* 
ments  down,  according  to  confident  calculations,  it  is 
«  bound"  to  lay  every  thing  in  the  way  of  architec 
ture  west  of  the  Alleghanies  «  out  cold,"  and  no  mis 
take! 

Jurytown  has  its  circuit  court,  and  its  county  court, 
and  its  criminal  court,  and  its  common  pleas,  to  say 
nothing  of  minor  tribunals,  including  «  any  quantity" 
of  justices  of  profound  capacity.  The  Bar  of  Jury- 
town  is  of  a  like  extensive  scale,  doubtless,  much  to 
said  bar's  own  satisfaction,  and  the  admiration  of  all 
beside.  Decayed  two-story  houses,  dark  passages,  and 
dingy  "  shingles"  abound,  of  course,  as  well  as-  the 
corresponding  number  of  brilliant  speakers,  shining 
politicians,  and  disinterested  candidates.  It  is  a  great 
treat  to  contemplate,  occasionally,  the  Bench  and  Bar 
of  Jurytown.  The  scene  is  of  a  very  republican  cha 
racter,  still,  fortunately ;  bare  throats,  shirt  sleeves,  and 
tobacco,  retaining  the  ascendency  over  emasculate  black 
coats,  clean  floors,  and  etiquette. 

03 


94  THE  BENCH  AlfD  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN. 

«To  be  A — No.  1,"  amid  these  perfections  is,  of 
course,  high  honour;  and  Judge  Frill's  court  is  the 
model  court  of  Jurytown.  Judge  Frill  is  a  refined 
man,  was  "  ever  so  long  at  college,"  and  ain't  done 
"learnin'  things"  yet;  has  a  heap  of  money,  more 
over,  and  wears  gold  spectacles  !  Judge  Frill,  when 
he  mounted  the  bench,  went  in  for  having  things  right, 
of  course ;  he  objected  to  shirt  sleeves,  eschewed  to 
bacco,  and  decidedly  set  his  face  against  swearing— 
except  in  the  legal  form.  Judge  Frill,  though,  hadn't  a 
fair  shake  at  first ;  he  held  his  court  in  a  rather  scant 
pattern  of  an  apartment  of  the  old  building,  which 
didn't  second  his  dignity  at  all,  and  it  was  therefore  a 
proud  day  for  him,  when,  translated  to  his  grand  new 
room  in  the  great  new  court-house,  he  viewed  his  more 
fitting  stage  of  judicial  action.  The  cause  was  one  of 
intense  interest. 

Mr.  Grire,  a  "  powerful  man,"  was  expected  to  make 
a  "great  effort ;"  the  new  court-house  itself  was  a 
matter  of  curiosity,  and,  over  piles  of  brick,  through  a 
sedge  of  shavings,  all  Jurytown  precipitated  itself  into 
Judge  Frill's  future  temple.  The  crowd  was  dense, 
the  day  warm,  coat  sleeves  were  numerous,  and  to 
bacco  abundant.  The  front  spittors  in  the  gallery,  un 
der  the  press,  distributed  their  salivary  favours,  indis 
criminately,  below ;  the  spittees  below  were  equally 
liberal  towards  each  others'  legs,  and  what  with  the 
blowing  of  noses,  and  a  characteristic  bronchitis,  there 
was  the  most  awful  clearing  of  throats,  haw/cing,  and 
horn-blowing  that  ever  Judge  Frill  had  listened  to !  It 
must  here  be  stated,  that  the  judge — whether  it  was 
that  he  always  had  something  at  the  tip  of  his  tongue, 
which  he  never  let  go  off,  or  for  some  other  reason  — 


THE  BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN.      95 

h  really  was  not  affectation,  could  not  trill  the  letter 
R,  he  invariably  made  a  W  of  it ;  and  thus  it  was  under 
the  most  imperative  orders  that  «  Mr.  Sheriff"  and  Mr. 
«  Gwire,"  and  a  number  of  other  officials,  now  set  to 
work  to  obtain  silence,  and  an  observance  of  court 
etiquette. 

The  court  was  opened,  and  the  cause  commenced, 
but  under  the  disadvantages  of  disturbing  causes  which 
sorely  troubled  Judge  Frill's  official  equilibrium.  A 
new  judge  in  a  new  court-room ;  and,  if  he  was  na 
turally  fastidious,  he  was  now  somewhat  fussy.  The 
cause,  amid  interruptions  both  from  bench  and  au 
dience,  had  struggled  on,  and  Mr.  Grire  was  in  his 
argument  when  Judge  Frill,  in  evident  fidgets,  cried: 

«  Stop,  Mr.  Gwiah !  Mr.  Sheriff,  this  court  can't 
hear,  and  it  insists  upon  respect !"  Mr.  Sheriff  bawled 
out,  «  Si-Zence,"  in  a  tone  that  deafened  all  but  him 
self;  and  Judge  Frill,  in  a  bland  manner,  said,  "  Pro 
ceed,  Mr.  Gwiah."  Mr.  Gwiah  did  "proceed,"  and, 
albeit  there  was  a  considerable  snorting  nnd  spitting, 
still  the  jury  and  audience  were  becoming  quite  inte 
rested,  when  Judge  Frill  again  interrupted : 

«  Stop,  Mr.  Gwiah,  Mr.  Shewiff !  This  court  de 
sires  that  you  would  signify  that  this  court  can't  go  on 
unless  there  is  less  hawking  in  the  gallewy !" 

«  Si-knee,  and  stop  spitting!"  fulmined  Mr.  Sheriff", 
at  the  same  time  changing  his  own  old  quid  for  a  juicy 
three  fingers'  full. 

« Pwoceed,  Mr.  Gwiah,"  said  Judge  Frill,  once 
more,  with  a  gracious  wave  of  the  hand  ;  but  scarcely 
had  the  restive  orator  given  a  toss  of  the  head  before 
he  was  again  checked  with  a 

"  Stop,  Mr.  Gwiah.    This  court  insists  upon  proper 


96       THE  BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN. 

etiquette.  Mr.  Sheriff !  Mr.  Sheriff!"  But  this  high 
officer  was  absent,  having  privately  withdrawn  for  some 
unaccountable  reason. 

«  This  court  can't  go  on,  Mr.  Gunah,  without  its 
proper  officers.  Mr.  Sheriff" — an  active  search  had 
been  instituted,  of  course,  and  « Mr;  ShewifF"  now 
appeared  at  a  side-door,  very  much  flurried,  and  ad 
justing  his  dress. 

"  Please  your  honour,"  said  he,   « I  was  really 
obliged  to" — "  Oh,  yes,  I  see,"  interrupted  the  judge 
with  a  grave  yet  benign  recognition  of  human  neces 
sities,  til  see!  Mr.  Sheriff,  this  court  directs  you  to 
take  down  that  leg!" 

Judge  Frill  here  pointed  with  great  determination  at 
a  sort  of  privileged  worthy  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
haunting  the  court-rooms,  and  who  now  sat  within  the 
bar,  with  one  leg  thrown  over  the  railing.  Mr.  Sheriff 
deliberately  "  took  down"  the  leg,  to  its  owner's  amaze 
ment  ;  and  Mr.  "Gwiah"  once  more  had  permission  to 
proceed.  Chafed,  and  absolutely  pawing,  off  he 
dashed,  made  a  good  quarter,  and  was  exhibiting 
a  "straight  tail,"  when  the  gates  were  shut  before 
him. 

«Stop,  Mr.  Gwiah !  Mr.  Sheriff;  this  court  can't 
hear !  This  court  directs  that  the  windows  be  closed, 
forthwith." 

As  stated,  it  was  a  warm  day,  and  this  order  was 
received  with  a  general  «  whew  !"  and  a  terribly  in 
creased  hawking,  but  "  si-Zence"  resounded,  and  bound 
ed,  as  it  were,  from  wall  to  wall,  and  down  came  the 
sashes. 

"  Proceed,  Mr.  Gwiah."  But  it  would  have  taken 
more  mettle  than  half  a  dozen  orators  could*  have  com- 


THE  BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN.       97 

manded,  to  have  carried  him  through  the  snorting, 
blowing,  and  "whewing"  that  now  prevailed;  he 
made  a  brush  for  it,  however,  when  the  futile  effort 
was,  this  time,  considerately  arrested. 

«Stopy  Mr.  Gwiah ;  this  court  is  satisfied  that  the 
last  expedient  of  this  court  is  ineffectual.  Mr.  Sheriff, 
open  the  windows."  «  Agh !"  breathed  everybody, 
with  intense  satisfaction,  and  at  the  same  time,  as  if  to 
repay  themselves  for  recent  deprivation,  every  mother's 
son  indulged  in  a  new  chew  and  a  hearty  expectora 
tion. 

"Stop,  Mr.  Gwiah."  Mr.  Gunah  hadn't  exactly 
recommenced ;  but  Judge  Frill  had  adopted  this  form 
of  blank,  as  it  were. 

«  This  court  can't  hear!  Mr.  Sheriff,  you  will 
please  learn  if  there  is  any  one  acquainted  with  the 
science  of  sound  present,  in  order  that  this  court  may 
ascertain  why  it  can't  hear." 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  ceremonious  inquiry,  and 
one  gentleman  was  named  ;  but  it  turned  out  that  his 
only  knowledge  of  sound  consisted  in  the  art  and  mys 
tery  of  tuning  pianos.  Another  young  gentleman  was 
an  optician  ;  that  is,  he  made  spectacles,  and  that  was 
pretty  near,  but  still  not  satisfactory.  At  length  the 
old  worthy,  who  had  had  his  leg  taken  down,  named 
Dr.  Stofllebricht,  whose  name  frequently  had  appeared 
in  the  papers  in  connection  with  hard  words  and  un 
known  discoveries,  was  called  and  stood  up,  perfectly 
prepared  to  make  himself  understood  in  any  known 
language,  except  English. 

Dr.  Stofllebricht,  aided  by  his  eyebrows,  shoulders, 
hands,  and  an  interpreter — all  fully  employed — was 
going  deeply  into  acoustic  principles^  talking  about 


98       THE  BENCH- AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN. 

elastic  media,  vibratory  motion,  and  the  tympanum, 
when  his  science  was  cut  short. 

«  Stop,  Dr.  Stofflebricht ;  this  court  simply  wants  to 
know  if  there  is  any  thing  in  the  construction  of  this 
hall  which  forbids  this  court  hearing." 

A  terrible  hammering  immediately  over"this  court's" 
head,  induced  as  sudden  a  call  for  Mr.  Sheriff:  «  Mr. 
Sheriff,  this  court  directs  that  you  instantly  forbid 
those  workmen  stopping  this  court  by  their  hammering. 
Proceed,  Dr.  Stofflebricht ;  this  court  wishes  to  know 
if  you  detect  any  fault  of  construction  in  this  hall  ?" 

Dr.  Stofflebricht  was  again  running  into  the  intrica 
cies  of  deflection  and  reflection.  «  Stop,  Dr.  Stoffle 
bricht.  Mr.  Sheriff,  what  do  those  workmen  say  to 
this  court  ?" 

"  Why,  they  say  they  won't  /"  A  trebled  thunder 
ing  above  sufficiently  backed  the  declaration  of  their 
intentions. 

"Mr.  Sheriff,  go  instantly  to  those  workmen,  and 
say  that  this  court  says  they  must  stop  their  hammer 
ing.  Proceed,  Dr.  Stofflebricht."  But,  instead  of 
opening  the  mouth,  it  was  more  necessary  to  stop  the 
ears  at  this  moment — a  perfect  battery  of  hammers 
having  opened  them !  The  storm  was  kept  up,  and, 
finally,  the  sheriff  again  made  his  appearance. 

"Mr.  Sheriff,"  cried  Judge  Frill,  now  decidedly 
roused  to  an  assertion  of  every  inch  of  his  dignity, 
«  what  do  those  workmen  say  to  this  court  nor?" 

«  Why,"  replied  the  sheriff,  « they  say  that  this  court 
may  go  to  h — 11 !" 

«  Proceed,  Dr.  Stofflebricht—" 

There  was  an  end  to  the  proceedings,  though ;  for 
at  that  moment,  a  quarter  section  of  plaster,  loosened 


THE  BENCH  AND  BAR  OF  JURYTOWN.      99 

by  the  rattle  above,  came  smothering  down  upon  Judge 
Frill's  head,  desk,  and  other  movables!  A  scream 
that  the  house  was  falling  adding  to  the  dust,  Judge 
Frill  himself  proceeded  out  of  the  side-door  without 
further  notice  of  adjournment ;  and  "Mr.  Sheriff" 
departed  to  «  wash  his  mouth  out,"  himself  in  charge 
of  the  jury.  A  correct  return  of  killed  and  wounded 
was  never  published ;  nor  did  Judge  Frill  prosecute 
inquiry  into  the  matter — not  desiring,  we  suppose,  to 
undergo  a  second  Jurytown  hammering. 


A  SUCKER  IN  A  WARM  BATH, 


OUR  friend  Louis,  of  the  « Italian  Baths,"  St.  Louis, 
has  just  about  the  nicest  arrangements  in  the  shape  of 
a  bath  that  an  up-river  roan  can  desire ;  but  still  he 
hasn't,  after  all,  got  the  « latest  touch"  in  the  way  of 
his  cocks,  and  that  we  found  out  recently  at  the  St. 
Charles,  New  Orleans.  We  called  in  to  see  our  old 
acquaintance,  the  Irish  lady,  who  does  the  towels,  &c., 
and  who — more  stretch  to  her  girdle — resembles  no 
thing  fleshly  in  petticoats,  except  it  be  Falstaff,  dis 
guised  as  the  «  fat  woman  of  Bentford,"  in  the  Merry 
Wives.  We  were  shown  into  a  bathing-room,  and 
there  we  discovered  that  an  entire  new  plan  of  letting 
in  and  letting  off  the  water  had  been  introduced.  We 
saw  a  shining  brass  plate  with  three  polished  handles, 
having  a  «  crank"  turn,  and  elegantly  lettered  beneath, 
*>  Hot,"  «  Cold,"  «  Waste." 

"  D'ye  understand  the  cocks  ?"  said  Mrs.  McTowell. 
«  Oh,  certainly,"  said  we,  for  the  credit  of  St.  Louis 
and  the  Italian  Baths.  The  fat  mistress  of  the  myste 
ries  shut  herself  out.  We  went  to  work  very  confi 
dently  at  the  handles  ;  heard  a  desperate  gwg'gling  up 
through  polished  gratings  in  the  bottom  of  the  "tub;" 
prepared  ourselves  leisurely  for  the  luxury,  and — but 
we  have  another  story  to  tell  about  the  matter,  and,  as 
100 


A    SUCKER   IN   A   WARM   BATH.  101 

that  other  is  rather  the  richer  of  the  two,  we  shall  only 
say  that,  between  «  hot "  and  "  coW,"  we  never  were 
so  cocked  in  our  life.  Having  managed  to  get  a  bath 
on  the  improved  plan  without  exposing  our  ignorance, 
we  left  the  place,  and  were  met  at  the  corner  by  a 
rough,  but  estimable  friend  from  northern  Illinois — 
one  who  has  made  a  fortune  among  the  «  diggings," 
and  one  who  can  afford  to  take  a  «  splurge"  every 
now  and  then  —  so  he  terms  his  occasional  visits  to 
the  large  cities. 

"You  hain't  been  taking  a  bath,  hev  ye  ?"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  reply. 

« In  them  there  brass  handle  concerns  ?" 

«  Yes,"  said  we — "  a  great  improvement — obviates 
the  inconvenience  of  the  noise  and  dash  of  the  old 
plan."  We  hope  that  this  public  confession  may  prove 
some  atonement,  but  we  certainly  did  talk  to  our  more 
ingenious  friend  with  an  unblushing  face  upon  the  oc 
casion,  lie  roared  out  laughing,  and  gave  us  his  own 
experience  of  the  matter. 

"  Old  Mrs.  Cornfed,  there,"  said  he,  «  asked  me  if  I 
knew  the  cocks,  and  I  told  her  yes,  in  course,  cause 
I'd  bathed  a  few,  /  reckon,  though  not  with  them  kind 
o'  fixins, — and  I  takes  and  turns  them  all,  and  there 
was  all  kinds  of  splutter  below ;  but  when  I  was  ready, 
there  wasn't  a  mite  of  water  in  the  blasted  thing!  It 
just  nat'rally  run  out  as  fast  as  it  run  in,  and  then  I 
know'd  what  <  waste*  meant.  •  Well,  I  just  fusses  with 
it,  fust  up,  and  then  down,  and  then  one  side,  and  then 
t'other,  till  I  allowed  I'd  shut  the  derned  thing  up, 
cause  the  tub  began  to  fill.  Well,  it  kept  fillin',  and 
fillin',  till  I  reckoned  it  was  about  right,  and  in  I  went, 
one  leg— but,  holy  Egypt !  out  I  came  again,  howling! 

9* 


102  A   SUCKER   11C   A   WARM   BATH. 

The  cussed,  eternal  <  cold'  one  hadn't  worked,  I  s'pose, 
and  I  couldn't  a  cum  out  wuss  from  a  seven  biler  ex 
plosion  !  Old  seven  hundred  weight  knocked  at  the 
door ;  « Perhaps  yes  don't  understand  the  cocks  ?'  says 
she.  *  Cock  thunder !'  I  sung  out, — but  I  didn't  want 
her  in  to  laugh  at  me ;  and  I  wa'n't  exactly  fit  to  be 
seen  by  a  lady,  either,  if  she  was  fat ;  so  I  said  it  was 
nothin',  and  tried  again  to  get  the  hang  of  the  con- 
sarned  handles,  but  by  this  time  the  tub  was  quite  full, 
and  falin',  at  that,  and  I  kept  turnin'  and  wagglin',  till 
I  rather  guess  I  must  a  started  the  cold  one,  without 
stoppin'  the  hot,  and,  as  it  was  brimmin'  before,  it 
jest  now  nat'rally  overrun,  and  ^rdiaps  there  was  the 
derndest  me  all  over  that  carpet  in  about  two  minutes, 
that  you  ever  did  see. 

"  The  cussed  cocks  wouldrft  stop,  none  of  'em ;  and 
I  was  hoppin'  about  in  the  water,  and  had  to  sing  out 
for  old  fatty,  any  how !  I'd  rather  a  gin  a  farm,  by 
thunder,  but  out  I  sung,  and  half  opened  the  door 
'fore  I  recollected  about  my  costoome  !  Back  went 
old  fatty  against  the  centre-table,  and  broke  a  pitcher, 
and  I  hopped  on  to  a  chair,  and  into  my  skin ;  and 
then  I  broke  for  one  of  the  opposite  bathing-rooms, 
and  locked  myself  in,  and  told  the  old  woman  Pd  give 
her  ten  dollars,  if  she  would  swob  up,  hand  me  my  shirt, 
and  say  nothing  about  it !  I  dont  know  whether  she  did 
or  not,  but  I  almost  die  a  laffin,  spite  of  my  sore  leg, 
whenever  I  think  of  it.  I  tell  you  what,"  added  our 
sucker  friend,  "  I  don't  mind  your  havin'  a  laff,  but  if 
you  go  to  publishing  I'll  shoot  you,  by  gosh  !" 

We  beg  to  assure  our  friend,  that  we  consider  our 
selves  shot ! 


AN  "AWFUL  PLACE." 


WE  have  never  visited  the  town  of  Madison,  In 
diana,  but  we  have  an  « awful"  curiosity  to  do  so, 
from  the  «  awful"  fact  that  we  have  never  heard  the 
place  mentioned,  without  the  "awful"  accompaniment 
of  this  adjective  !  Madison  is  an  «  awful  place  for  re 
vivals  !"  an  «  awful  place  for  Mesmerism !"  an  «  aw 
ful  place  for  Mrs.  Nichols'  poems  !"  an  "  awful  place 
for  politics !"  and  the  following  story  will  prove  that 
it  was,  particularly,  an  «  awful  place  for  Jackson  !" 

It  was  during  the  weak  struggle,  made  to  oppose 
General  Jackson's  re-election  to  the  Presidency,  that, 
during  his  western  round,  it  became  known  that  he 
would  «  stop  at  Madison !"  There  was  an  "  awful 
time,"  of  course,  but  it  happens,  providentially,  that 
in  all  awful  times  some  awful  genius  or  other  arises  to 
assume  their  direction,  witness  Cromwell,  Napoleon, 
Washington,  Marcy,  &c.  &c.  Now,  the  directing 
spirit  called  forth  to  ride  to  glory  on  the  neck  of  this 
emergency,  was  a  certain  Col.  Dash,  of  the  «  Madi- 
sonian  (not  Macedonian)  Phalanx,"  and  wrapt  as  he 
was,  in  zeal  and  the  « Phalanx"  uniform,  no  one 
thought  of  opposing  his  arrangements. 

The  general  was  to  arrive  by  steamboat,  and  anx 
iously  had  the  whole  town,  hour  after  hour,  listened 

103 


104  AN   AWFUL  PLACE. 

for  the  gun,  which,  placed  under  the  directions  of  Col. 
Dash  himself,  was  to  summon  the  citizens  to  the  land 
ing.  It  was  during  a  «  bad  spell  of  weather,"  and, 
moreover,  as  the  day  wore  on,  more  rain  fell.  The 
crowd  dispersed,  and,  finally,  night  falling,  the  colonel 
himself  retired  from  the  mill-stone  on  which  he  had 
taken  his  stand,  in  order  to  keep  out  of  the  mud, 
and  joined  the  amusements  of  a  neighbouring  ten^pin 
alley.  Games  were  played,  and  "peach"  and  «  old 
rye"  had  suffered  "some,"  of  course,  and  the  colonel, 
his  «« Phalanx"  coat  and  hat  hanging  against  the  wall, 
was  just  exulting  in  a  "  spare,"  when  word  came  that 
the  boat  was  in  sight,  and  forth  all  rushed.  It  was 
quite  dark,  and  still  drizzling  ;  the  gun  wouldn't  "  go 
off,"  of  course,  so,  the  town  being  built  on  three  eleva 
tions,  from  the  highest  of  which  the  landing  is  not  visi 
ble,  a  messenger  was  despatched  to  spread  the  news, 
and  every  thing  was  ready  for  a  "  hurrah  for  Jackson," 
as  soon  as  the  boat  should  touch. 

The  boat  did  touch  ;  there  was  a  bonfire  in  the  mud, 
smoking  vigorously,  by  the  cheering  uncertainty  of 
which,  the  planks  were  shoved  ashore,  and  Col.  Dash, 
with  the  rest  of  theMacedo — beg  pardon,  Madisonians, 
rushed  on  board.  There  was  "  The  Gmeral,"  sure 
enough,  standing  right  iu  the  middle  of  the  cabin,  his 
hat  off,  and  his  grizzly  poll,  with  every  inclination  of 
the  head  brushing  off  swarms  of  flies — the  boat  a  "  light 
draught" — from  the  ceiling.  The  colonel  introduced 
himself, — the  colonel  « shook  hands ;"  the  colonel 
introduced  the  Phalanx,  individually, — the  Phalanx, 
individually,  shook  hands;  the  colonel  spoke, — the 
general  replied;  tha  enthusiasm  was  tremendous, 
when,  suddenly,  the  bell  rang,  and,  to  the  consterna- 


AN  AWFUL  PLACE.  105 

tion  of  the  entire  "  Madisonian  Phalanx,"  it  was  an 
nounced  that  the  boat,  having  put  out  some  freight, 
was  going  right  on,  and,  moreover,  that  the  general 
did  not  intend  to  land  ! 

«  What !  not  see  Madison,  gineral  ?" 

«  Not  see  Madison  /"  exclaimed  the  Phalanx ! 

The  «  gineral"  was  distinctly  given  to  understand, 
that  if  he  didn't  see  Madison,  Madison  would,  incon 
tinently,  precipitate  itself  from  its  three  several  plat 
forms  into  the  river  and  disappear,  for  ever,  from  the 
face  of  Indiana  j  to  avoid  which  sad  calamity,  and  the 
captain  consenting  to  wait,  the  «  gineral"  chW,  forth 
with,  shielded  by  an  umbrella,  and  conducted  by  the 
colonel,  descend  the  steps,  slide  along  the  lower  deck, 
venture  upon  the  planks,  and,  finally,  step  ashore,  up 
to  his  knees,  upon  the  soil  that  adored  him ! 

The  prospect  here,  was  certainly  gratifying ;  on  one 
side,  the  ten-pin  alley  was  brilliantly  illuminated,  and 
the  proprietor  of  it,  moreover,  stood  in  the  door- way, 
out  of  the  wet,  discharging  a  pistol.  On  the  other  side 
was  the  smoke  of  the  bonfire,  and,  right  in  front,  re 
flecting  the  flicker,  whenever  it  could,  stood  a  heap  of 
mill-stones,  towards  which  safer  eminence  the  general 
proceeded,  and  taking  in  at  a  coup  d'ceil  the  features 
of  the  scene,  declared  Madison  to  be,  «  really  a  very 
pretty  little  town!" 

"  Why,  gineral,"  cried  the  colonel,  «  you  ain't  be 
gun  to  see  Madison,  yet!" 

"  Ain't  begun  to  see  it !"  chorussed  the  Phalanx. 

The  general  was  now  given  to  understand,  that  he 
must  mount  two  banks  before  the  beauties  of  the  place 
could  at  all  strike  him,  and,  furthermore,  that,  as  in 
wet  weather  vehicles  always  stuck  fast,  it  would  be 


106  AN  AWFUL   PLACE. 

much  better  1  o  proceed  on  foot.  This  movement,  the 
general,  "with  great  reluctance,"  was  compelled  to 
resist ;  and  so,  as,  by  this  time,  a  considerable  crowd 
of  stragglers  had  tumbled  themselves  down  the  hill,  the 
anxious  colonel  arranged  that  the  distinguished  visiter 
should  maintain  his  position  on  the  mill-stone,  and  that 
the  eager  throng,  after  an  individual  "  shake  hands," 
should  let  him  off! 

The  general  nerved  himself,  amid  a  loud  "  hurrah," 
and  the  crowd  "  came  on !"  but,  here,  a  sudden  diffi 
culty  presented  itself ;  the  position  which  the  old  hero 
had  taken  was  defended,  on  all  sides  except  the  front, 
by  a  chevaux  defrise  of  lumber,  interspersed  by  an  oc 
casional  breastwork  of  barrels,  and,  consequently,  the 
retiring  and  advancing  shakers  were  walking  over  each 
other.  The  excitement  was  intense,  the  risk  of  a  fight 
imminent,  when  the  genius  of  the  colonel  again  flashed 
forth. 

"Stop!"  cried  he — there  was  a  stop — " General! 
this  ain't  a  going  to  do,  no  how !  'Tention  Phalanx 
and  citizens  !  Back  out,  the  hull  of  ye,  from  the  mill 
stone  ;  form  a  ring  round  the  fire,  and  the  general  will 
walk  round  to  you  /" 

This  proposition  was  received  with  a  general  cheer ; 
the  crowd  plunged,  slid  and  staggered  towards  the  fa 
gots  ;  the  general  was  seized  by  the  arm,  dragged  after 
them,  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  after  not  more  than  two 
or  three  slips,  there  he  stood,  in  the  middle  of  the 
smoke,  «  surrounded  by  freemen  !"  as  the  colonel  elo 
quently  exclaimed,  at  the  same  time  giving  him  a  sixth 
shake,  by  way  of  showing  the  rest  how  to  do  it,  and 
then  taking  a  place  himself  in  the  ring. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  general's  entire  satis- 


AN  AWFUL  PLACE. 


107 


faction  with  this  arrangement,  his  experience  among 
the  Creeks  and  Seminoles  having  made  him  quite  easy 
in  swamp  life.  He  approached  the  circle,  extended 
his  hand,  a  dozen  others  were  thrust  out  to  grasp  it, 
but  the  colonel  was  before  any  of  them,  and,  for  the 
seventh  time,  the  general  was  «  welcomed  to  Madison!" 
Round  went  the  visitor, — slip  and  shake, — "  welcome 
to  Madison," — drizzle — slide.  Suddenly,  the  colonel 
shot  across  the  circle, — took  a  place, — the  revered  hand 
was  extended,  and  for.the  eighth  time,  and  still  more 
warmly  was  it  grasped  with  a  «  welcome  to  Madison!" 
Another  fourth  of  the  circle  was  measured,  when  the 
colonel  again,  like  a  shooting  star,  flashed  across,  and 
for  the  ninth  time  the  general  was  met  by  his  grasp 
and  "  welcome."  The  general  stopped  short,  the  rain 
came  down  heavily,  and  a  sudden  whirl  of  smoke  en 
circled  him  in  its  strangling  embrace  ;  as  suddenly,  a 
flare  of  flame  showed  a  darker  tempest  gathered  round 
his  brow ;  he  "  broke"  for  the  boat,  the  colonel  at  his 
heels,  and  the  crowd  in  consternation, — he  reached 
the  deck  as  the  colonel  had  gained  the  middle  of  the 
plank, — " Gineral,  ain't  Madison  rather  a  place?" 
bawled  the  latter. 

"Awful !  perfectly  awful,  by  the  Eternal !"  muttered 
the  former,  not  even  turning  at  the  cry  which  the  colo 
nel  gave,  as  the  end  of  the  plank  slipped,  letting  him 
souse  into  the  river. 

As  we  have  said,  we  have  an  awful  desire  to  visit 
Madison. 


THE  ELK  RUNNERS. 


THE  following  extraordinary  relation  is  literally  true. 
It  has  been  communicated  to  us  by  one  of  our  oldest 
and  most  respectable  citizens,  and  is  further  substan 
tiated  by  the  concurring  testimony  of  our  senior,  who 
knew  both  of  the  men  spoken  of,  and  has  never  heard 
the  story  doubted.  Major  John  Dougherty,  the  «  Ken- 
tuckian"  mentioned,  is  still  living,  in  Clay  county, 
Missouri,  which  he  has  represented  in  the  legislature, 
besides  having  filled  the  important  post  of  Indian 
agent.  He  was  famous  in  his  youth,  among  the  prairie 
and  mountain  men,  as  a  hunter  of  extraordinary  skill 
and  endurance.  We  should  like,  of  all  things,  to  hear 
his  own  statement  of  an  adventure  which  is,  certainly, 
among  the  most  marvellous  ever  heard  of  out  of  the 
pages  of  fiction — if,  indeed,  fiction  has  any  thing  to 
compare  with  it. 

In  the  year  1818,  the  Missouri  Fur  Company  had  a 
post  just  below  Council  Bluffs,  named  Fort  Lisa, 
after  the  gentleman  who  established  it.  There  was 
much  competition  in  the  trade  at  that  time,  and  it  was 
a  great  point  to  select  the  very  best  men  for  Runners. 

Mr.  Lisa  had  with  him  a  young  Kcntuckian  named 
D.,  a  fine  daring  fellow,  with  a  frame  of  iron,  the  speed 
of  the  ostrich,  and  the  endurance  of 'the  camel.  He 
108 


THE  ELK  RUNNERS.  109 

was  fortunate,  moreover,  in  the  retention  of  a  half- breed 
called  Mai  Bceuf,  who,  notwithstanding  his  name,  (bad 
beef,)  was  considered  of  hardly  less  merit  than  D.t 
and  between  the  two  men,  consequently,  a  keen  rivalry 
existed.  D.  had  travelled,  on  foot,  from  the  Black 
bird  Hills  to  Fort  Lisa,  a  distance  of  ninety  miles,  in 
thirteen  hours !  Mai  Bceuf  also  boasted  some  astonish 
ing  feats  of  «  bottom,"  and  both  were  stationed  at  the 
fort,  during  the  time  we  speak  of,  for  the  purpose  of 
providing  venison. 

One  evening,  in  July,  the  weather  extremely  warm, 
the  grass  high,  and  the  post  unfurnished  with  meat,  the 
two  men  were  playing  at  cards,  when  their  employer 
came  up,  reproached  them  with  their  negligence,  and 
ordered  them  to  start,  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
on  a  hunt.  Obedience  was  promised,  of  course,  but 
the  game  continued,  each  moment  growing  more  des 
perate,  the  spirit  of  rivalry  pervading  their  hearts  in 
every  thing,  till,  finally,  morning  broke,  as  the  half- 
breed  declared  himself  to  be  broken.  They  fell  asleep 
on  the  spot,  and  the  sun  was  well  up  when  Mr. 
L.,  informed  of  the  case,  again  approached, — in  no 
pleasant  humour,  it  may  be  supposed, — cursed,  sacre'd, 
and  carahoo'd,  until  the  delinquents,  fully  aroused,  and 
a  little  ashamed,  took  their  guns  and  started  for  Papil- 
lon  Creek,  on  the  edge  of  the  prairie,  about  five  miles 
off.  They  there  discovered  a  gang  of  elk,  when  the 
Kentuckian  suggested  a  plan  of  approach,  which  would 
enable  them  to  get  a  good  shot.  The  half-breed,  rank 
ling  at  his  companion's  triumph  the  night  previous, 
observed,  sulkily : 

"I  don't  kill  elk  with  my  gun,  but  with  my  knife." 
The  pluck  of  the  other  was  roused  in  an  instant, 
10 


110  THE    ELK    BUNNERS. 

rightly  interpreting  the  vaunt  as  a  challenge  to  a  trial 
of  speed  and  bottom,  and  on  his  saying,  proudly,  that 
what  his  companion  could  do,  he  could  do  also,  both 
hung  their  guns  in  a  tree,  and,  approaching  the  band 
as  near  as  possible,  they  suddenly  raised  the  Indian 
yell,  which  has  a  most  paralyzing  effect  upon  the  ani 
mals. 

Off  the  creatures  went  across  a  low  prairie,  a  few 
miles  in  width,  leaving  their  pursuers  far  behind  ;  but 
steadily  the  latter  continued  their  pace,  nevertheless. 
They  reached  the  bluff — ascended  —  crossed — de 
scended, —  one  resolve  uppermost  in  their  minds, 
«  never  to  say  fail."  League  after  league  the  chase 
and  race  continued,  the  men  panting  like  hounds,  cool 
ing  their  mouths  in  crossing  an  occasional  "  branch," 
by  throwing  up  the  water  with  their  palms ;  but  still 
unpausing,  until,  approaching  Elk  Horn  river,  a  dis 
tance  of  twenty  miles,  by  mutual  agreement  they  took 
a  circuit  with  an  increase  of  speed,  got  ahead  of  the  elk 
and  actually  prevented  them  from  crossing.  Leagues 
and  leagues,  upon  a  new  track,  the  chase  continued,  the 
animals  by  this  time  so  exhausted  by  heat,  thirst,  and, 
above  all,  fright — for  the  hunters  had  incessantly  sent 
forth  their  yells,  in  this  case  as  much  a  scream  of  mu 
tual  defiance  as  an  artifice  of  the  chase — that  they 
scarcely  exceeded  their  pursuers  in  speed ;  the  latter, 
foaming  and  maddened  with  excitement,  redoubled 
their  efforts,  until  the  elk,  reaching  a  prairie  pond,  or 
«  sink,"  the  hunters  at  their  heels,  plunged  despairingly 
in,  lay  down,  and  abandoned  themselves,  heedless  of 
all  else,  to  the  gratification  of  their  thirst.  The  frantic 
rivals,  knife  in  hand,  dashed  in  after  their  prey,  began 
the  work  of  slaughter,  pausing  not  till  they  had  butchered 


THE   ELK  RUNNERS.  Ill 

sixteen  elk,  dragged  them  from  the  water,  and  cut  up 
and  prepared  the  meet  for  transportation  to  the  fort, 
whither  they  had  to  return  for  horses. 

Had  the  race  ended  ?  No !  for  victory  or  death  was 
the  inward  determination ;  and,  as  yet,  neither  had 
given  way.  Off  dashed  again  the  indomitable  half- 
breed,  and,  at  his  side,  the  unyielding  Kentuckian. 
Ridge  and  hollow,  stream  and  timber,  (no  yelling 
now,)  in  desperate  silence,  were  left  behind.  The  sun 
was  sinking ; — blind,  staggering,  on  they  went ; — they 
reached  the  fort  —  haggard,  wild,  and  voiceless,  as 
from  the  fires  of  the  savage,  the  "  gauntlet"  of  fiends. 
A  crowd  gathered  round  the  exhausted  men,  who  had 
arrived  together,  and  now  lay  fainting,  still  side  and 
side,  a  long  time,  before  they  were  enabled,  by  signs 
and  whispers,  to  tell  that  they  had  run  down  sixteen  elk, 
and  yet  couldn't  say  which  was  the  best  man  ! 

This  feat  brought  upon  D.  an  affection  of  the  lungs, 
nor  did  he  recover  his  strength  for  several  years.  He  is 
still  alive — a  quiet  and  influential  citizen.  Mai  Bceuf 
became  very  dissipated,  and  died  in  a  short  time.  Our 
informant  tells  us,  that  he  has  made  an  examination 
of  the  country  forming  their  race  track,  himself,  and 
that  they,  without  exaggeration,  must  have  run  seventy- 
Jive  miles  between  the  hours  of  8  A.  M.,  and  7  p.  M. 
He  is  fond  of  reading  the  New  York  Spirit  of  the 
Times,  and  wishes  to  know  what  the  editor  thinks  of 
the  Barclay  and  Ellsworth  breed,  when  compared  with 
the  prairie  runners  of  the  West  ?  a  thousand  of  whose 
exploits  remain  untold,  as  matters  of  common  occur 
rence. 


OLD  SOL"  IN  A  DELICATE  SITUATION. 


MOBILE,  Alabama,  is -still,  one  of  the  pleasantest,  as 
it  was,  at  one  time,  one  of  the  most  thriving  theatrical 
towns  of  the  whole  country.  Its  inhabitants  are  re 
nowned  for  gayety  and  hospitality  at  this  day,  but 
there  was  a  time  (1836-7)  when  these  agreeable  quali 
ties  of  character  developed  themselves  to  a  degree  little 
less  than  extravagant.  The  cotton  trade  was  great, 
the  city  extending,  «  bank  facilities"  abundant,  and  the 
handsome  New  Theatre,  managed  by  Messrs.  Ludlow 
and  Smith,  with  a  really  talented  and  expensive  com 
pany,  was  a  matter  of  paramount  interest  with  all. 

The  private  boxes,  on  either  side  of  the  stage,  had 
been  let  at  immense  prices,  for  the  season ;  and  the 
dashing  lessees  rivalled  each  other  in  furnishing  them. 
Carpets,  curtains,  pier-glasses,  mahogany  chairs,  and, 
above  all,  costly  side-boards,  stored  with  sparkling 
wines  and  all  that  could  add  to  the  natural  gusto  with 
which  the  drama  was  received. 

Now,  these  private  boxes  were,  of  course,  just  about 
the  most  splendid  things  in  «  all  creation ;"  but  they 
had  their  accompanying  evil.  The  champagne,  for 
instance,  was  not  always  rivalled  in  spirit  by  the  dia 
logue  of  the  scene,  and  a  lag  on  the  stage  was  imme 
diately  made  up  for  by  the  pop  of  a  cork !  Again, 
112 


"OLD   SOL"   IN   A  DELICATE    SITUATION. 


113 


growing  fastidious  in  the  exclusive  sovereignty  of  the 
proscenium,  the  entrance  of  any  actor  of  less  than 
acknowledged  stamp,  was  a  signal  for  drawing  the 
curtain  and  diverting  criticism  from  the  scene  to  the 
side-board  —  a  proceeding  equally  gratifying  to  the 
histrion,  and  to  the  less  exclusive  portion  of  the  au 
dience,  both  of  these  parties  being  compelled  to  hear 
the  remarks  which  were  indulged  in  behind  the  damask. 
They  were  great  times — those  private  box  times ; — 
crowded  houses,  smashing  benefits,  storms  of  applause, 
and  «  heaps"  of  "  State  Bank"  paper! 

Manager  Sol  was  a  great  favourite,  of  course, — on 
the  stage,  by  his  humour  and  eccentricities,  and  about 
town,  by  his  suavity  and  prompt  business  habits ;  but, 
as  is  always  the  case,  certain  dissatisfied  spirits — one 
or  two  from  among  the  private  box-ers — began  to 
whisper  that  «  Old  Sol  didn't  speak  the  words ;"  that 
he  "  took  liberties  with  the  author,"  &c. — the  most  pre 
posterous  idea  in  the  world,  for,  as  everybody  knows, 
if  there  is  a  circumspect  being  in  existence,  it  is  your 
"  great  favourite,"  especially  if  he  be  a  low  comedian, 
—this  class,  above  all,  speaking  «no  more  than  is  set 
down  for  them."  Sol  went  on,  keeping  the  million  in 
a  roar,  and  the  half-dozen  in  a  fever,  when  one  night 
he  appeared  as  Sir  Mark  Chase,  in  A  Roland  for  an 
Oliver.  Now,  Sir  Mark  is  a  stentorian,  rough  old 
country  gentleman,  and,  driven  out  of  his  wits  by  the 
apparently  equivocal  proceedings  of  the  two  sets  of 
lovers,  who  are  obliged  to  resort  to  all  sorts  of  expe 
dients,  he  cries  out, 

«  She's  mad ;  they're  all  mad  ;  my  whole  family  is 
mad,  and  damn  me  but  I  believe  I  shall  soon  be  in  the 
family  way  /" 

10" 


114         "OLD   SOL1'   IN  A   DELICATE   SITUATION. 

A  tolerably  broad  joke,  but  one  which  has  been  in 
variably  received  by  the  audience,  given  as  it  is,  on 
all  occasions,  by  a  "  great  favourite."  Sol  uttered  the 
speech  with  uproarious  effect,  when  a  drawing  of  the  pri 
vate  box  curtains,  and  a  fierce  popping  of  corks,  gave 
intimation,  not  to  be  mistaken,  that  his  « liberties"  were 
undergoing  critical  discussion. 

The  next  day,  certain  serious-looking  squads  might 
have  been  noticed  about  town — on  the  post-office 
corner,  in  the  popular  bar-rooms,  &c. ;  and,  by  and  by, 
there  were  divers  hints  passed  from  one  to  another, 
among  the  more  excitable  citizens,  that  «  Old  Sol  was 
going  to  get  goss,  sure."  In  the  evening,  the  house 
was  crowded,  sure  enough ;  everybody  going  from  a 
vague  idea  that  something  was  to  « come  off,"  but 
what  it  was  to  be  would  have  puzzled  them  to  guess. 
The  chief  flutter  was  about  the  private  box,  P.  S.,  nnd 
now,  after  the  «  first  music,"  and  just  before  the  curtain 
was  to  rise,  the  thunder  cloud  appeared  above  the 
horizon,  in  the  shape  of  a  naturally,  jolly,  red-faced, 
d  citizen,  but  one  whose  more  companionable  traits 
seemed  now  to  be  entirely  overcast  by  the  colder  sha 
dows  of  harsh  duty.  No  sooner  had  he  appeared  than, 
as  if  it  was  the  preconcerted  signal,  a  score  of  voices 
called  out  for  "Sol  Smith!"  "Old  Sol!"  "Smith!" 
«  manager!"  &c.  The  great  body  of  the  audience 
cared  little  about  the  movement,  but  any  thing  by  way 
of  a  lark,  and  so  there  was  shortly  a  general  cry  for 
"Old  Sol,"  and  Old  Sol  appeared,  looking  "just  as 
innocent !" 

"  What  is  your  will,  ladies  and  gentlemen  ?"  There 
was  a  sudden  pause,  and  every  one  in  the  house  fixed 
their  eyes  on  the  severe  little  man  in  the  box,  who  gave 


"OLD   SOL"   IN  A   DELICATE   SITUATION.          115 

a  good  loud  "hem!"  and  glanced  once  or  twice  back 
at  the  side  board,  and  finally  commenced : 

«  Mr.  Smith" 

"  Mr. "  promptly  responded  the  manager. 

"Mr.  Smith,"  said  Mr. ,  and  he  didn't  look 

half  so  confidently  as  he  had  done,  for  it  was  a  debut, 
«  the  Mobile  folks  are  not  so  particular  to  talk  about, 
but  there  are  some  things  that  they  consider  a  little  too 
fat,  any  way  you  can  fix  it !" 

The  speaker  paused  and  looked  round  for  approba 
tion,  and  he  evidently  thought  that  he  had  done  that 
pretty  well,  «  any  how." 

"  You  would  appear  to  intimate  that  there  is  some 
complaint!"  observed  the  very  much  astonished  ma 
nager. 

« Intimate  !  no,  sir,  not  exactly ;  we  expect  an  ex 
planation  with  regard  to  what  you  said  on  the  stage, 
last  night." 

«  Wliat  did  I  say?"  inquired  Sol. 

"  Say!  why,  you  said  you  were " 

The  champion  of  pure  taste  suddenly  stuck,  and 
looked  round  the  house,  and  the  embarrassment  seemed 
to  spread  ;  and,  to  increase  it,  the  manager,  even  more 
innocently,  repeated  his  «  What  did  I  say  ?" 

"  You  know  very  well  what  you  said,  Sol  Smith,  and 
we  think  this  is  carrying  your  introductions  a  /eetle  too 
far,  and  we  ain't  a  going  to  stand  it !" 

«  I  am  not  aware,"  said  the  imperturbable  Sol,  "that 
I  introduced  into  my  part,  last  night,  any  thing  foreign 
to  the  author." 

"Oh!  well,  by  thunder!"  There  was  a  general 
expression  of  downright  astonishment  at  Mr.  Sol  Smith's 
cool  effrontery. 


116  "OLD    SOL"    IN   A   DELICATE    SITUATION. 

«  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Smith,  that  in  that  part 
last  night,  you  had  to  say  that  you  were  in " 

Again  the  florid,  and  now  somewhat  angry  questioner 
stuck  dead,  and  pursed  his  lips,  and  opened  and  shut 
his  fingers,  and  "  hem'd"  emphatically,  and  then  blew 
his  nose  as  if  he  were  firing  a  pistol.  By  this  time,  the 
few  ladies  who  had  gathered,  unaware  of  what  was  to 
come,  had  left  the  theatre,  and  there  was  a  strong  dis 
position  to  make  the  most  of  the  fun. 

«  What  did  I  say  I  was  in  ?"  again  demanded  Smith. 

«  That  you  were  in  a  delicate  situation  /"  roared  the 
Rhadamanthus  of  the  private  box ;  and  a  deafening 
yell  of  mirth-run-mad  almost  took  the  roof  off  the  houser 
It  was  sometime  before  Sol,  with  an  undisturbed  gra 
vity  of  face,  assured  the  now  dancing  gentleman  that, 
certainly,  he  had  not  so  expressed  himself,  but,  believ 
ing  that  he  knew  to  what  Mr. referred,  he  would 

get  the  book,  and  satisfy  him. 

"  Get  the  book  !  very  well — exactly — just  show  us 
that  in  the  book,  that's  all!"  and  a  hundred  other  voices 
now  chimed  in,  by  way  of  keeping  it  up,  «  Get  the 
book,  get  the  book,  Sol." 

The  manager  went  to  the  prompt  side,  got  the  farce 
of  Jl  Roland  for  an  Oliver,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the 

excited  Mr. jumped  down  upon  the  stage  byway 

of  having  no  « wool"  pulled  over  his  eyes ;  another 
roar  of  laughter  and  applause  rewarding  this  spirited 
movement. 

The  interest  now  became  « intense,"  as  the  manager 
turned  the  pages  over  and  over,  to  find  the  passage, 
and,  as  if  a  little  at  fault,  finally  got  down  on  one 
knee  before  the  footlights,  in  order  to  see  more  dis 
tinctly.  Mr. went  down  on  one  'knee  also,  and 


•,:.',.•          .'.<       .  ;.•':.;-•...•       , 

, 

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• 


«« OLD  SOL"  IN  A  DELICATE  SITUATION. 
44 1  eta  lick  that  man,  by  thunder !" 


"OLD   SOL"  IN  A  DELICATE  SITUATION.          117 

again  the  pages  were  turned  over,  and  opinion  began 
to  prevail  that  Sol  was  cornered,  when  he  quietly 
pointed  out  the  speech  to  his  censor.     The  florid  little 
man  could  not  believe  his  eyes  ;  he  read,  and  re-read, 
and,  sure  enough,  there  was  no  mistake  about  it,  till, 
finally,,  terribly  cut  down,  he  was  obliged  to  say : 
".Well,  gentlemen,  it  is  here,  by  gracious!" 
A  solitary  but  emphatic  hiss  now  saluted  his  ears — 
killing  reward  of  his  chaste  intentions.    A  sky  rocket 
never  ris  faster. 

«  /  can  lick  that  man,  by  thunder  /"  roared  the  chafed 

and  disappointed  Mr. ,  and  up  and  down  he  went 

before  the  lights,  shaking  his  fist,  and  ready  to  spring 
at  either  pit  or  third  tier,  as  provocation  might  offer. 

The  laughing  and  screaming  was  incessant, and  Mr. 

was  keeping  it  up,  swearing  that  he  intended  to  have 
decency  observed  in  the  theatre,  and  that  no  one  should 
take  «  d — d  liberties"  on  that  stage,  when  a  couple  of 
cooler  friends  were  obliged  to  make  their  dtbut,  also, 
from  the  side-box,  and  urge  him  to  retire.  This  he 
did  finally,  clambering  back  into  the  box,  and  the  sanc 
timonious  manager  assisting  to  "  boost  him"  with  the 
most  friendly  solicitude.  Pop  went  the  corks  imme 
diately ;  Sol  "  rung  up,"  the  play  was  an  interesting 
one,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  quick-tempered  but 
good-natured  champion  of  taste  acknowledged  that  it 
was  not  «  Old  Sol"  alone  who  had  got  himself  into  a 
delicate  situation ! 


THE  "GAGGING  SCHEME;"  OB,  WESTS 
GREAT  PICTURE. 


"WE  must  think  of  a  gag!" 
«  Yes,  there's  nothing  else,  we  must  think  of  a  gag!" 
"Decidedly,  gentlemen,  we  must  think  of  a  gag!" 
This  positive  unanimity  of  opinion  was  expressed  by 
a  small  party  in  a  small  town  in  the  "  Great  West," 
upon  the   close  of  a  theatrical  season,  which,  after 
"continued"  and  "unrivalled"  success,  had  closed, 
leaving  the  manager  with  but  one  alternative — namely, 
to  "slope" — which  he  availed  himself  of ; — and  the 
company  but  one  hope — a  «  gag"  to  enable  them  to 
follow  him. 

"Now,  I  propose  an  < appeal?  "said  a  heavy-voiced 
individual, — the  corners  of  his  collar  turned  very  far 
over  his  stock,  and  those  of  his  mouth  jerked  down 
wards,  as  if  endeavouring  to  recover  them ;  "  I  pro 
pose  an  «  appeal  to  the  admirers  of  Shakspeare !'  " 

"  Wants  another  shy  at  Hamlet,"  remarked, 

half  aside,  a  gentleman  of  rather  slim  figure,  with  a 
turned-up  nose  and  a  low  comedy  twinkle,  as  he  sat 
back  in  his  chair,  enjoying  his  knee  and  a  chew  of  to 
bacco  ; — "  For  my  part,  let's  have  something  that'll 
draw ; — I  go  in  for  a  gag  /" 
118 


THE  GAGGING   SCHEME.  119 

"Decidedly,"  chorussed  all  except  the  Shakspearian 
devotee,  « it  must  be  a  gag  /" 

"Something  that'll  make  up  a  bill !" 

"Double  posters!" 

"Red  letters!" 

"  If  you  can  get  any  one  to  do  the  printing!"  chimed 
in  a  voice,  quietly,  yet  so  audibly,  that  the  blood  of  the 
whole  assembly  fairly  crept.  It  came  from  a  strange- 
looking  creature,  who  lay  at  full  length,  yet  half-smo 
thered,  apparently,  in  an  immense  heap  of  blue  cotton 
check, — the  "sea-cloth,"  that  still  encumbered  the 
stage  of  the  shanty-looking  theatre,  from  the  perform 
ance  of  "  Paul  Jones,"  which,  with  a  "  real  ship"  and 
a  "naval  combat,"  had  formed  the  hope  of  the  closing 
night. 

"Ah,  there  goes  Wormwood,  as  usual." 

"Old  Overalls!" 

"  Canvas  splasher !" 

The  company  amused  themselves  for  some  time,  by 
applying  epithets  to  the  disturber  of  their  counsels,  the 
"  artist  of  the  theatre" — but  there  he  lay,  wallowing  in 
the  "  sea," — his  eyes  closed  like  a  whale  in  a  calm — 
the  resemblance  carried  even  further  by  an  occasional 
jet  of  tobacco-juice. 

"  Just  look  at  him — he's  safe  enough — he  need  only 
wash  his  face  to  walk  out  of  town  unrecognised !" 

There  was  very  little  exaggeration  in  this,  for  the 
"  artist"  was  about  the  rudest  specimen  of  that  diamond 
"  genius  in  the  rough"  that  could  well  be  produced. 
His  shaggy  hair  was  bound  up  in  a  soiled  handkerchief; 
his  face  was  smutted  abominably ;  dusty  looking  whis 
kers,  run  to  seed,  rendered  unnecessary  a  stock,  while 
an  "  executioner's  shirt,"  from  the  wardrobe,  and  can- 


120  THE  GAGGING  SCHEME;  OR, 

vas  «  overalls"  coated  with  paint  until  they  rivalled  in 
thickness,  and  hue,  also,  the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros,  com 
pleted  his  garb ; — stay,  let  there  be  added,  (likewise 
from  the  wardrobe,)  a  pair  of  very  old  and  discoloured 
supernumerary  boots. 

A  lively  carol  was  now  heard,  also  quick  steps  ad 
vancing  along  the  "  box-lobby" — a  two-feet  dark  pass 
age,  by-the-by,  which  terminated  in  three  steps  leading 
down  to  the  stage — there  was  a  jostle  behind  the 
«  wings,"  a  deprecation  and  an  imprecation — the  for 
mer  addressed  to  a  companion,  the  latter  bestowed 
upon  the  "property  man" — and  a  dashing  figure  ap 
peared  at  "  R.  H.,  1st  ent.,"  ushering  upon  the  boards 
a  rather  rowdy-looking  youth,  who  had  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth  and  his  hands  in  his  pocket. 

«  Excuse  the  dem'd  stage  attendants,  if  you  please, 
my  dear  fellow ;  I've  broken  every  shin  I've  got,  my 
self,  in  the  blawsted  place !  I  often  think  of  the  gar 
den  (Covent  Garden)  while  meeting  with  these  annoy 
ances.  I've  told  you  what  my  engagement  was  there, 
I  think ;  twelve  pounds  a  week,  dresser,  room  to  my 
self,  and  three  months'  leave  of  absence — nearly  over, 
thank  God !" 

The  speaker  was  chiefly  conspicuous  for  a  set  of  very 
bright  buttons,  a  moustache,  and  eyebrows  that  ex 
pressed  a  sort  of  stereotyped  surprise. 

«  Ah,  he-re  comes  <  Theatre  Royal !'  "  was  the  sneer 
ing  remark  of  the  General  Council. 

"  And  that  d — d  amateur  fool,  Wimple,"  contemptu 
ously  added  the  tragedian,  with  the  collar  heretofore 
described. 

"Wimple,"   bawled  half  a  dozen  voices,  "come 


WEST'S  GREAT  PICTURE.  121 

here — you're  just  the  fellow; — got  a  cigar? — thank 
you ! — thank  you !" 

A  dozen  remarkably  mild  "  Principes"  quickly  dis 
appeared  from  the  crown  of  Mr.  Wimple's  hat;  he  dealt 
in  the  article,  however,  as  well  as  in  confectionery, 
Brandreth's  pills,  penknives,  lottery  tickets,  soda  wa 
ter,  &c.,  &c.  He  was  the  « crack"  amateur  of  the 
place,  dramatic  critic,  and,  above  all,  had  played  him 
self," — Jaffier,  to  a  travelling  «  phenomenon's"  Belvi- 
dera ;  he  consequently  was  «  up"  in  all  theatrical  mat 
ters,  and  everybody's  confidant ; — a  distinction  as 
gratifying  to  his  self-esteem  as  ruinous  to  his  cigar 
stock. 

«Wimple,"  said  the  low  comedian,  with  a  more 
insinuating  twinkle  than  ever,  «  you  must  help,  us  out 
of  this  scrape,  by  thunder!  here  we  are,  a  lot  of  poor 
devils -" 

"Mr.  Wimple  will  understand,"  said  the  tragedian, 
interrupting  his  less  dignified  companion,  at  the  same 
time  drawing  down  the  cornersofhis  mouth  and  throwing 
his  head  back — "  that  the  present  dilemma  in  which  / 
find  myself,  is  the  result  of  a  too  self-sacrificing  devo 
tion  to  the  drama  as  it  should  be,  and  a  too  glaring  lack 
of  appreciation  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Wimple's  fellow- 
citizens! — /  make  no  appeal,  save  to  that  self-respect 
which  should  teach  a  reverence  for  the  immortal  bard, 
and — and — a  corresponding  turn-out  on  the  benefit  of 
his  representative !" 

The  buttoned-up  companion  of  Mr.  Wimple,  during 
this  address,  had  executed  divers  graceful  roulades, 
tapped  his  boot,  &c.,  and  at  the  conclusion  observed, 
with  an  air  of  indifference,  that  of  course  «Mr.  Wimple 
understood  his  position ! — a  man  who,  as  a  vocalist, 

11 


122  .    THE   GAGGING    SCHEME;    OR, 

had  sustained  himself  against  odds  in  London, — who 
had  received  twelve  pounds  a  week,  and  had  only  to 
return  to  receive  increased  terms,  &c.,  &c." 

There  was  a  disposition  on  the  part  of  others  to  assert, 
suddenly,  a  share  of  importance,  when  the  voice  from 
the  "  sea-cloth"  was  again  heard : 

"  Wimple,  these  fellows  owe  four  weeks  board  and 
their  bar  bills ;  the  landlord  has  got  their  trunks ;  they 
haven't  a  picayune  left,  nor  invention  enough  to  get 
up  a  "  gag"  to  procure  one,  and  they'll  be  obliged  to 
you  for  your  <  valuable  aid,'  that's  the  whole  matter." 
The  speaker  turned  over,  amid  a  volley  of  epithets, 
threw  out  another  amber  jet,  and  shut  his  eyes 
again. 

Mr.  "Wimple  couldn't  advise,  really,  the  season  was 
so  completely  "run  into  the  ground;"  besides,  the 
fashionables  were  all  running  after  Elder  Slack,  who 
had  come  out  against  the  theatre — even  the  amateurs 
had  backed  out  for  the  present.  All  knew  what  he 
(Mr.  Wimple)  had  «  done  for  the  profession,"  but  be 
yond  sending  them  up  some  cigars  and  a  couple  of 
packs  of  playing-cards,  he  could  think  of  no  scheme. 
It  was  a  clear  case,  the  "  dog  was  dead  ;"  not  a  span 
gle-glimmer  of  hope ; — "  lamps  down," — a  "  dark 
stage," — «  enter  Egbert,  musing!" 

At  this  crisis,  there  entered,  by  the  back-door,  an 
extremely  shabby,  rather  elderly,  and  very  indignant 
individual,  with  a  newspaper  in  his  hand ; — a  flushed 
face  and  suppressed  hiccup  added  impressiveness  to  his 
manner. 

"  Gentlemen — /— am  not  the  leading  actor  of— this 
company ;  /  have  not  had — pieces  done  for  me  to  the 
exclusion  of— I  vrill  say — equally  cleve'r  men." — The 


WEST'S  GREAT  PICTURE.  123 

corners  of  the  tragedian's  mouth  indicated  that  these 
innuendoes  were  directed  towards  him.  The  last  comer 
went  on :  «  /  don't  assume  to  myself  all  the  Shak- 
spearian  dig — dignity  of  the  comp — ny ;  but  I  do  say — 
I  say  I  do  say,  gentlemen,  that  the  author  of  this  attack" 
— unfolding  the  paper — «  is  an  irreverend  libeller,  and, 
Slack  or  no  Slack,  gentlemen, — Slack  or  no  Slack,  I 
repeat  it,  Mr.  Wimple, — before  I  leave  this  town — he 
shall  hear  from  me !" 

The  indignant  speaker  looked  as  if  his  purpose  must 
necessarily  be  an  instant  one,  though  his  probable  stay, 
as  one  of  the  «  can't  get  away  club"  was  likejy.  to 
afford  him  sufficient  time  for  action.  Without  allowing 
himself  to  be  influenced  by  even  the  cooling  formality 
of  taking  a  seat,  he  merely  turned  himself  so  as  to  throw 
a  full  light  upon  the  paper,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  PAINTING  v.  PLAY-ACTING. 
«  To  the  Editor  of  the  Skinville  Disseminator : 

«  Dear  Sir, — Be  so  kind  as  to  announce,  in  your 
valuable  and  truly  Christian  journal,  that  West* 8  great 
picture  of  DEATH  ON  THE  PALE  HORSE  will  shortly  be 
exhibited  in  our  town ;  a  letter  from  brother  Tick,  re 
commending  the  worthy  and  pious  proprietor  of  the 
painting,  having  informed  me  of  that  fact.  Let  me 
congratulate  our  citizens  upon  the  opportunity  thus 
offered  to  them,  of  studying  this  sacred  illustration, 
rather  than  the  abominations  of  the  play-house ; — the 
divine  efforts  of  true  piety  rather  than  the  artful  ensnar- 
ings  of  ignorance,  vice,  and  profligacy ; — the  feature* 
of  the  King  of  Terrors  himself  on  his  ghastly  steed, 


124  THE   GAGGING   SCHEME;   OB, 

rather  than  the  painted  cheeks  of  sin,  mounted  on  the 
devil's  hobby-horse. 

"  Humbly  yours, 

«  PERSIMMON  SLACK. 

«  P.  S.  This  great  original  painting  is  the  sole  work 
on  that  subject,  by  West,  in  the  country.  It  can  only 
remain  a  few  days.  P.  S." 

"There!"  cried  the  ><  heavy  man,"  as  he  finished 
reading,  « thank  God  /  wasn't  born  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  though  some  of  my  acquaintances  include 
themselves  among  its  ornaments!"  and  again  the 
«  Ghost"  cast  a  scornful  glance  towards  the  Hamlet. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  indignation  expressed  on 
all  sides,  and  another  round  of  cigars  from  Mr.  Wim 
ple  ;  in  the  mean  time,  the  <<  artist"  had  risen  from  his 
«  sea-cloth,"  looked  over  the  newspaper,  and  merely 
remarking,  that  he  had  thought  of  a  "gag,"  himself, 
which  would  bring  them  through,  mounted  a  ladder, 
and  disappeared.  The  histrions,  likewise,  may  be  lost 
sight  of  for  a  short  time ;  guessing,  as  the  reader  well 
may,  at  their  employment — which  was  an  indulgence 
in  high  scorn  at  the  bigotry  and  intolerance  of  the  ago 
— an  active  circulation  of  the  sympathizing  Wimple's 
cigar-box,  and  an  endless  suggestion  of  highly  inge 
nious  and  impractible  "gags." 

«  West's  great  painting"  had  arrived,  and  the  town 
of  Skinville  could  hardly  look  at  itself  in  the  glass 
without  giggling,  so  pleasantly  was  it  titilated  by  ex 
pectation.  A  panoramic  view  of  the  city  of  something 
had  actually  been  exhibited  in  the  town  some  years 


WEST'S  GREAT  PICTURE.  125 

before,  and  there  were  several  subscribers  to  the 
Weekly  (Pictorial)  Herald  in  the  place ;  also,  a  resident 
portrait  painter,  who,  besides  the  likenesses  of  the  Rev. 
Persimmon  Slack  and  other  leading  people,  had  painted 
for  the  dining-room  at  the  hotel  a  view,  in  perspective, 
of  the  entire  length  of  «  Main  street,  Skinville,"  be 
ginning  with  very  large  houses  in  the  two  lower  cor 
ners  of  the  picture,  and  terminating  in  inconceivably 
small  ones  at  the  top ;  the  arts,  it  will  be  seen,  there 
fore,  were  not  altogether  unappreciated  among  the 
Skinville  illuminati. 

"West's  great  painting"  had  arrived,  and  Elder 
Slack  had  at  once  offered  his  church  for  its  exhibition. 
Immense  posters,  printed  at  the  office  of  the  Dissemi 
nator,  announcing  «  DEATH  ON  THE  PALE  HORSE,  for  a 
Jew  days  only"  glared  from  the  corners,  while  the 
columns  of  the  Disseminator  itself,  in  addition  to  a 
long  article  on  the  « Genius  of  West,  and  Modern 
Scriptural  Illustration,"  contained  an  enthusiastic  edi 
torial,  written  by  the  proprietor  of  the  painting,  and 
concluding  with  divers  doubly  enthusiastic  extracts  from 
popular  journals,  written  by  the  proprietor  also.  This 
gentleman  could  hardly  fail  of  making  an  impression 
in  Skinville.  He  was  a  young  man  of  quiet,  but  con 
fident,  manners  ;  he  assured  everybody  that  his  picture 
had  cost  three  thousand  guineas  in  London — that  the 
horse  alone  was  worth  the  money  ;  and  he  won  Elder 
Slack's  heart  instanter  by  gravely  assuring  him  that  his 
very  first  remark  had  proved  him  to  be  a  connoisseur. 
The  church  was  darkened  without  delay,  excepting 
one  window,  which  was  to  admit  the  light  upon' the 
picture  ;  a  railing  was  put  up  to  keep  oft  the  vulgarly 
curious  :  Elder  Slack  consented  to  deliver  himself  a 


126  THE   GAGGING  SCHEME  ;   OR, 

short  lecture,  and  to  explain  the  design  of  the  great 
artist ;  the  door  was  opened  ;  the  proprietor  took  the 
money ;  Skinville  took  its  seat ;  Elder  Slack  appeared 
on  the  platform  with  a  white  wand ;  the  curtain  was 
drawn,  and  Death  on  the  Pak  Horse  threatened  the 
breathless  multitude. 

There  was  a  long  pause  of  motionless  admiration — 
broken  at  last  by  Elder  Slack,  who,  making  a  funnel 
of  a  sheet  of  foolscap,  and,  stepping  back  some  paces, 
took  a  spy  at  the  painting.  His  example  was  quickly 
followed,  and,  provision  having  been  made,  several 
quires  were  in  instant  requisition.  The  picture  was 
certainly  a  bold  effort.  Elder  Slack  correctly  de 
scribed  it  as  a  dashing  one !  In  fact,  it  looked  as  if 
some  of  the  dashes  had  been  applied  from  an  inconve 
nient  distance.  The  horse  was  very  white ;  his  eyes 
very  red ;  his  mane  and  tail  very  wild ;  while  the 
rider's  teeth  flashed  awfully,  and  his  train  of  demons 
were  perfectly  frightful — to  say  nothing  of  the  down 
right  immodesty  of  the  costumes. 

Elder  Slack  now  commenced  his  lecture.  The  sa 
cred  passage  which  had  inspired  the  artist,  was  no  less 
potent  with  the  Skinville  divine.  He  announced,  de 
nounced,  and  pronounced — taking  particular  care  to 
scathe  the  Thespians,  and  scorch  all  among  his  hearers 
who  had  been  seduced  by  them ;  next,  he  descanted 
upon  the  meaning,  and,  lastly,  upon  the  merits  of  the 
painting.  He  called  attention  to  the  grandeur  of  the 
proportions ;  the  truth  of  the  drawing ;  the  dashing 
style  of  the  coloring.  He  ventured  upon  "  light  and 
shade,"  "  foreshortening,"  "  foreground,"  « back 
ground,"  and  "perspective."  Gathering  confidence, 
he  pronounced  upon  « general  effect,''  « a  grand 


WEST'S  GREAT  PICTUBE.  127 

whole,"  "sublime  conceptions,"  and  even  named,  un 
hesitatingly,  Raphael  and  Correggio— allowing  them 
superiority  in  no  one  respect,  even  in  their  much- 
vaunted  «  chiar  owcuro  /"  He  criticised  figure  after 
figure,  dwelling  particularly  upon  the  half-averted,  yet 
creepingly  expressive,  features  of  Malice,  which,  by- 
the-by,  was  really  well  painted,  and,  by  a  strange 
chance,  was  an  actual  likeness  6f  Elder  Slack  himself! 
His  yellow  skin,  restless  eye,  and  ignoble  mouth, 
peered  out,  another  self  as  it  were,  for  the  recognition 
of  every  soul  in  the  church  but  the  speaker !  The 
afternoon  exhibition  closed  ;  the  extraordinary  resem 
blance  was  the  subject  of  universal,  but  quiet,  remark, 
and  at  night  the  church  was  again  thronged.  In  the 
mean  time,  however,  a  very  singular  change  had  come 
over  the  «  dream"  of  the  actors ;  they  had  paid  their 
bills  at  the  hotel,  redeemed  their  trunks,  and,  for  the 
evening  exhibition,  they  had  actually  paid  their  money, 
and  now  occupied  a  conspicuous  pew,  each  with  his 
sheet  of  foolscap ! 

Elder  Slack  was  again  eloquent — a  gain  severe — again 
critical.  By  this  time  he  was  au  fait  in  the  matter, 
and  his  remarks  were  given  with  double  effect.  As  he 
approached  the  figure  of  Malice,  another  extraordinary 
effect  was  perceived.  By  some  inconceivable  en 
chantment  the  dark  shadows  had  re-arranged  themselves, 
and  now  represented  a  black  coat  and  pantaloons ;  in 
fact,  there  stood  the  Skinville  elder  himself,  even 
to  his  broadcloth,  large  as  life,  and  absolutely  « twice 
as  natural!"  The  effect  was  electrical,  especially 
among  the  Thespians  ;  for  while  a  sort  of  treinour  crept 
round  the  spectators,  they  fairly  laughed  aloud.  The 
lecturer  paused— confusion  began  to  ensue,  when  a 


128  THE   GAGGING   SCHEME. 

tall  figure,  who  had  entered  a  few  moments  previously, 
arose  in  the  midst,  and,  with  a  strong  Yankee  twang, 
addressed  the  assembly : 

«  My  good  friends,  I  don't  say  nuthin1  'ginst  your 
knowledge  of  picters ;  but  Pm  in  this  line  myself,  and 
I  rayther  guess  you've  got  on  the  wrong  horse !  If 
this  here  is  West's  Great  Paintin',  mine  aw'/,  that's 
all !" 

Need  the  story  go  on  ? — need  it  be  told  «  how"  this 
stranger  Was  Mr. ,  the  well-known  Yankee  connois 
seur,  proprietor,  and  exhibitor,  of  West's  originals  1 — 
How,  during  the  confusion,  the  actors  had  rejoined 
their  ingenious  friend,  the  «  artist  of  the  Theatre,"  who, 
leaving  the  church-door  to  take  care  of  itself,  had  se 
cured  passages  for  the  party  in  the  very  coach  which 
had  brought  the  «  sure  enough"  Pale  Horse  man  to 
town  ?  Need  it  be  told  how  the  "  First  tragedian" 
and  the  "  Heavy  man"  forgot  their  jealousies,  as  the 
"  London  vocalist"  did  his  annoyances  in  a  hearty 
laugh,  while  "  Overalls"  explained  the  details  of  his 
stratagem  ? — How  Elder  Slack  received,  next  morning, 
a  grateful  letter  from  one  «  William  Shakspeare,"  thank 
ing  him  for  his  exertions  in  behalf  of  a  few  distressed 
disciples,  and  wishing  him  health  and  heart  to  contem 
plate  his  own  likeness  ?  Need  it  be  told  how,  finally, 
the  elder,  at  once  killed  as  a  critic,  declined  equally  as 
a  divine,  each  heated  and  unchristian  expression  sug 
gesting  the  idea  of  malice,  and  the  common  sense  of 
Skinville  having  received  a  very  wonderful  enlighten 
ment  from  the  study  of  "  West's  Great  Painting  ?" 


ESTABLISHING  THE  SCIENCE. 


THE  persecutions  of  the  Mesmerists  will  one  day 
make  a  curious  volume,  for  they  will  be  written,  of 
course.  The  disciples  of  Galileo,  Harvey,  Jenner,  &c., 
have  been  exalted  in  their  struggles  and  sufferings, 
and  those  of  Mesmer  even  more  brightly  will  shine  in 
martyrology.  Seriously,  the  trials  to  which  travelling 
Mesmerists  are  put  to,  are,  at  times,  humiliating  and 
painful  enough,  albeit  they  afford  infinite  sport  to  the 
unbelievers.  These  travelling  «  Professors,"  or  many 
of  them,  are  charlatans,  thus  far,  that  they  pretend  to 
treat,  scientifically,  phenomena,  the  real  nature  of  which 
they  are  entirely  ignorant  of;  and  the  study  of  which 
they  are,  neither  by  education,  habit,  or  aimy  at  all 
fitted  for.  They  are  charlatans,  in  that  their  super 
ficial  knowledge  of  mere  effects  is  simply  made  available 
in  the  shape  of  exhibition ;  and  the  success  of  the  show 
being  their  first  object,  they  may  be  suspected,  per 
haps,  in  some  cases,  of  a  little  management.  At  the 
same  time,  the  vulgar  idea  of  general  collusion,  which 
prevails  among  those  who  will  not,  themselves,  experi 
ment,  would  be  ridiculous  if  it  were  not  pitiable. 

De  Bonneville  had  been  electrifying  Detroit  by  his 
more  than  galvanic  effects  upon  the  muscles  of  scores 
of  his  impressibles,  when  an  enormous  sized  Wolverine 


130  ESTABLISHING   THE    SCIENCE. 

« trying  the  thing"  himself,  found  that  he  was  quite 
equal  to  the  professor,  in  setting  folks  to  sleep  and 
"makin*  on  'em  cut  up"  afterwards,  and,  accordingly, 
in  the  furor  of  his  discovery,  off  he  went  into  the 
country  to  lecture  and  diffuse  the  new  light  which  had 
been  dispensed  to  him.  His  success  was  tremendous ; 
town  and  Tillage  said  there  was  "  something  in  it," 
until  his  reputation,  as  in  other  cases,  begat  him  ene 
mies.  The  Wolverine  Mesmerizer,  after  astonishing  a 
«  Hall"  full,  one  evening,  at  some  very  "  promising 
town"  or  other,  and  which  bade  fair,  shortly,  to  be 
quite  «  a  place,"  returned  to  the  tavern,  to  be  arrested 
in  the  bar-room  by  a  score  of  «  first  citizens,"  who  had 
then  and  there  congregated  « jest  to  test  the  humbug," 
any  how ! 

"  Good  evening,  Perfesser,"  said  one.  "  Won't  you 
take  a  little  of  thejluid?"  said  another;  and  this  being 
an  evident  hit  in  the  way  of  a  joke,  the  «  anti-hum 
bugs"  proceeded  to  more  serious  business. 

"  Perfesser,"  said  the  principal  speaker,  a  giant  of  a 
fellow, — before  whose  proportions,  even  the  huge 
Magnetiser  looked  small.  "  Perfesser,"  said  he,  biting 
off  the  end  of  a  «  plug,"  and  turning  it  over  in  his 
jaws  very  leisurely,  "  a  few  on  us,  here,  hev  jest  con 
cluded  to  hev  you  try  an  experiment,  appintin'  our 
selves  a  reg'lar  constituted  committee  to  report !" 

The  Professor  begged  to  appoint  a  more  proper  place 
and  hour,  &c.,  or,  according  to  the  apprehensions  of 
• "  the  crowd,"  evinced  the  expected  desire  to  make 
«  a  clean  back  out." 

"  Perfesser,"  resumed  the  "  big  dog,"  "  ef  we  on- 
dustand  right,  you  call  your  Mesmer  ism  a  <  re-mee-jil 
agent,'  which  means,  I  s'pose,  that  it  cures  things?" 


ESTABLISHING   THE    SCIENCE.  131 

The  disciple  of  science  referred  to  divers  cases  about 
town  in  which  he  had  been  successful,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  «  pulling  teeth"  operation  which  he  had  just 
concluded  his  lecture  with. 

"Yes,"  said  the  challenger,  "you're  death  on  teeth, 
we  know,  but  ken  Mesmerism  come  the  re-wiee-jil  over 
rheumatiz  ?" 

" Inflammatory  or  chronic?"  demanded  the  Pro 
fessor. 

"Wa'll,  stranger,  we  ain't  much  given  to  doc 
tor's  bottle  names,  but  we  reckon  it's  about  the  wust 
kind." 

The  Mesmerist  was  about  to  define  the  difference 
between  inflammatory  attacks  and  local  affections, 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  inquisitor,  who  rather 
allowed  that  as  far  as  the  location  of  the  disorder  went, 
it  had  a  pre-emption  right  to  the  hull  crittur ;  and  that, 
furthermore,  it  was  jest  expected  of  him  that  he  should 
forthwith  visit  the  case,  and  bid  him  take  up  his  bed 
and  walk,  or  he  himself  would  be  escorted  out  of  town, 
astride  of  a  rail,  with  the  accompanying  ceremonies. 
This  was  a  dilemma,  either  horn  of  which  promised*  a 
toss  to  his  reputation,  but  the  crowd  were  solemnly  in 
earnest ;  already  triumphing  in  his  detection,  they  began 
to  look  wolfish  at  him  and  wise  at  each  other,  so  that 
the  Wolverine  had  nothing  left  for  it  but  to  demand, 
boldly,  to  "  see  the  patient !"  We  had  better  give  the 
rest  of  the  story  as  it  was  related  to  a  humorous  friend 
of  ours,  by  the  disciple  of  Mesmer,  himself. 

«  Up  stars  I  went  with  'em,  mad  as  thunder,  I  tell 
you ;  first  at  being  thought  a  humbug,  and  next,  that 
my  individooal  share  of  the  American  eagle  should  be 
compelled  into  a  measure,  by  thunder !  I'd  a-gin  'em 


132  ESTABLISHING  THE   SCIENCE. 

a  fight,  if  it  hadn't  hen  for  the  science,  -which  would  a 
suffered  any  how,  so  I  jest  said  to  myself,  let  'em  bring 
on  their  rheumatiz !  I  felt  as  if  I  could  a  mesmerized 
a  horse,  and  I  Determined  whatever  the  case  might  be, 
I'd  make  it  squeal,  by  thunder ! 

"  <  Here  he  is,'  said  they,  and  in  we  all  bundled  into 
a  room,  gathering  round  a  bed,  with  me  shut  in  among 
'em,  and  the  cussed  big  onenlightened  heathen  that 
did  the  talking,  drawing  out  an  almighty  bowie-knife 
at  the  same  time.  « That's  your  man!'  said  he. 
Well,  there  lay  a  miserable-looking  critter,  with  his 
eyes  sot,  and  his  mouth  open, — and  his  jaws  got 
wider  and  wider,  as  he  saw  the  crowd  and  the  bowie 
knife,  I  tell  you !  <  That's  the  idea !'  said  old  big 
Ingin. 

«  <  Rise  up  in  that  bed  !'  said  I,  and  I  tell  you  what, 
I  must  a  looked  at  him  dreadful,  for  up  he  jumped 
on  eend,  as  if  he'd  jest  got  a  streak  of  galvanic. 

"  « Git  out  on  this  floor,'  said  I,  with  a  wuss  look, 
and  I  wish  I  may  be  shot  if  out  he  didn't  come,  look- 
in'  wild,  I  tell  ye  ! 

« <  Now  cut  dirt,  d — m  you  /'  screamed  I,  and  Jehu 
Gineral  Jackson  ! — if  he  didn't  make  a  straight  shirt- 
tail  for  the  door,  may  I  never  make  another  pass. 
After  him  I  went,  and  after  me  they  cum,  and  ^re- 
haps  there  wasn't  the  orfullest  stampede  down  three 
pair  of  stars  that  ever  occurred  in  Michigan  !  Down 
cut  old  rheumatiz,  through  the  bar-room ; — out  I  cut 
after  him  ; — over  went  the  stove  in  the  rush  after  both 
on  us.  I  chased  him  round  two  squars — in  the  snow 
at  that — then  headed  him  off,  and  chased  him  back  to 
hotel  agin,  where  he  landed  in  a  fine  sweat,  begged  for 
his  life,  and  said — he'd  give  up  the  property  !  Well,  I 


ESTABLISHING   THE   SCIENCE.  133 

wish  I  may  be  shot  if  he  wasn't  a  feller  that  they  were 
oflerin'  a  reward  for  in  Buffalo !  I  made  him  dress 
himself — cured  of  his  rheumatiz — run  it  right  out  of 
him  ;  delivered  him  up,  pocketed  the  reward,  and  es- 
tablisJied  the  science,  by  thunder !" 


OLE  BULL  IN  THE  "SOLITUDE." 


THE  enthusiastic  temperament  of  the  violinist,  Ole, 
may  be  easily  inferred  from  the  passionate  character  of 
his  musical  compositions  and  performances.  We  have 
only  to  add  that  his  mind  is  no  less  characterized  by 
simplicity  and  singleness  of  devotion.  He  is  almost 
boyish  in  his  enjoyments,  while  his  expression  of 
them  is  as  impulsive  us  the  breeze,  nnd  quite  as  re 
freshing. 

If  «  Boz,"  his  mental  city  still  befogged  with  Lon 
donism,  could  step  from  the  daily  swept  trotloir  of  the 
tourist,  and  dare  the  mud  of  the  "American  Bottom," 
opposite  St.  Louis,  to  gaze  through  the  "  Looking- 
Glass  Prairie"  windows,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at 
that  Ole  should  be  equally  eager. 

The  afternoon  succeeding  his  second  concert  in  St. 
Louis,  the  imposing  bust  of  the  Norseman,  clad  in  a 
particularly  light  and  elegant  summer  frock,  and. 
mounted  on  a  spirited-looking  horse,  was  seen  to  dash 
off  from  the  «  Planters*,"  rattle  itself  down  Market 
street,  and  jerk  itself  up,  as  suddenly,  opposite  Philips' 
music  store.  Bull  speaks  English  very  well,  but  still 
there  is  something  of  "  the  Dutch/'  about  it,  as  the  St. 
Louis  Nativists  would  say. 
134 


OLE    BULL    IN    THE    SOLITUDE.  135 

«  The  prharie,  Mistehr  Phillips — vat  vay  vas  I  go  to 
the  prharie  ?" 

Phillips  opened  his  quaint  eyes,  and  remarked, 
that  Mr.  Bull  certainly  did  not  think  of  riding  twenty 
miles  on  horseback,  within  a  few  hours  of  sunset, 
to  a  spot  devoid  of  habitation,  or  even  shelter,  with 
a  thundering  storm  gathering  in  the  west,  more 
over! 

"  Yes,  I  moast  see  the  prharie,  and  just  now.  I 
have  play  two  nights  in  the  hot  room,  and  I  want  air. 
I  have  got  noting  but  gasp — all  here,"  touching  his 
broad  chest ;  "  I  must  see  the  prharie." 

"Well,  but,"  said  Phillips,  "  you'll  have  to  stay  out 
all  night !» 

«Vell,  I  shall  see  the  prharie  in  the  night." 
"  There's  a  devil  of  a  storm  coming  up  !" 
«I  shall  see  the  prharie  in  (he  storm." 
"  But,  d — m  it,  you've  got  a  thin  coat  on !" 
"  I  can  see  the  prharie  vitout  any  coat." 
In  short,  it  was  spiritually  an  obligate  movement  on 
the  part  of  the  musician — prestissimo  "  at  that."     He 
could  not  wait  for  a  party  that  might  be  arranged  next 
day  ;  he  would  not  persuade  his  usual  compagnon  du 
voyage  to  stay  out  all  night ;  and  he  should  not  com 
pel  his  servant ;  the  fit  was  on  him,  and  the  "  solitude 
of  the  prairie"*he  was  determined  to  enjoy  «  solitary 
and  alone."     He  procured  a  vast  amount  of  unintelli 
gible  information,  which  he  said  "  yes"  to,  paragraph- 
ically,   galloped    down  to  the  ferry-boat,  rode  twice 
round  the  engine  apartment  in  the  centre,  by  way  of 
getting  over  soon,  and  was  only  stopped  by  the  sud 
den  halt  of  his  steed,  as  his  eye  caught  a  sight  of 


136         OLE  BULL  IN  THE  SOLITUDE. 

the  piston-rod.  Day  waned ;  night  fell ;  the  storm 
held  its  revel  till  near  morning ;  the  sun  arose  beau 
tifully;  10  o'clock  A.  M.  saw  the  streets  dry;  and 
about  meridian,  the  anxious  friends  of  the  musician 
were  made  happy  by  his  re-appearance, — drenched, 
dried,  and  bedraggled,  but  his  eye  filled  with  light, 
and  his  heart  with  music,  as  usual.  He  shall  tell  his 
adventure  himself: 

«  Yes,  he  vas  fine  fellow,  dat  horse,  he  give  three 
kick  ven  he  leave  the-fehrry,  and  I  feel  just  like 
him,  I  give  three  kick  too  !  No,  I  did  not  know 
any  road,  but  everybody  tell  me  go  right  on,  and  I 
go.  Vehry  tick  mud !  to  be  sure,  but  I  don't  mind 
mud  on  the  prharie.  I  ride  on,  and  after  good  while 
I  come  to  ever  so  many  roads,  and  I  vas  bother, 
but  I  tink  to  myself,  my  horse  has  fine  instink,  and 
let  him  go  ;  and  vat  I  find  but  he  tink  just  like  me — 
he  take  the  tickest  mud  too,  and  I  go  on  again  ;  and' 
when  it  got  pretty  near  dark  I  come  out  on  the  prha 
rie — all  wide — beautiful — fine  grass— flower — so  many 
bird — all  sing — sing — sing — I  feel  light — as  if  I  could 
jump  up  and  stay  dere,  and  my  horse,  he  feel  just 
like  me  again ;  he  jump  up,  too,  and  den  he  sniff 
the  grass,  and  kick  up  vid  his  behind,  and  go  « ne- 
he-he-he-e-e  T  Veil,  I  laugh  at  him  vherry  mootch, 
and  get  down  to  let  him  eat  dat  fine  grass,  while  I 
listen  to  all  de  sounds,  and  look  at  de  birds.  0, 
dere  vas  one  beautiful  little  kind — all  black,  vid  red 
head,  yellow  vings — and  I  vas  surprise  to  hear  so 
many  different  song.  Veil,  I  valk  avay,  and  vat  you 
tink  ? — if  dat  horse — fine  instink — he  run  right  after 
me,  and  rub  me  all  over; — just  as  if  he  like  me  for 


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OLE  BOLL  IN  THE  SOLITUDE.         137 

give  him  de  grass !  and  he  look  me  right  in  de  face, 
and  den  he  go  <  ke-he-ke-e-e-ej  again !  Veil,  he 
'muse  me  vherry  mootch,  and  I  forget  dat  it  get  dark 
till  I  feel  de  rain,  and  den  I  say  to  ray  horse,  <  now 
ve  go  home,'  and  I  ride  back — back — back — but  it 
get  quite  dark,  and  we  have  to  valk  to  keep  in  de 
mur1,  foil,  I  keep  in  de  mud,  for  I  say,  vhile  I 
kee^  in  de  mud  ve're  all  right!  but  after  long  time 
I  no  feel  no  more  mud,  and  I  vas  fear  I  vas  lost. 
Oh,  yes,  I  vas  vherry  vet.  It  rain  all  de  time,  but 
de  clouds  vas  so  beautiful,  vid  de  lightning !  and  the 
thunder  roll  so  grand — and  my  horse — fine  instink — 
he  stop  to  look,  just  like  me !  Oh,  yes,  I  vas  come 
to  little  house,  at  last,  vherry  nice  people  vid  noting 
to  eat,  but  vat  I  care,  my  horse  have  belly  full  of  fine 
grass,  and  lick  my  face  ven  I  put  him  in  de  shed; 
and  I  go  to  bed  up  funny  ladder  dat  'muse  me 
vherry  mootch,  too,  only  I  vake  up  all  stiff  in  de 
night,  for  my  chamber  have  vherry  good  vindow,  but 
no  glass  in  him,  so  I  valk  about  till  daylight,  ven  I 
have  joy  to  see  de  sun  rise,  and  my  droll  horse  go 
« Jie-he-he-e-e-e  /'  for  good  morning ! 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  de  prharie  look  better  in  fine 
veather,  but  I  say  to  myself,  if  'tis  beautiful  in  April, 
it  must  be  bright  in  May,  and  glorious  all  the  time ! 
If  the  rnud  vas  tick  the  grass  was  the  richer ;  if  de 
storm  not  come  to  make  me  vet,  I  vas  not  see  the 
lightning !  and  if  I  not  get  stiff  in  the  hut,  I  vas  lie^ 
awake  discontent  in  the  hotel; — It  vas  beautiful  trip ! 
It  make  me  laugh  ven  I  tink ;  and  that  rascal  horse, 
ask  him,  and  he  say,  <  he-he-he-e-e-eS  too  !" 

We  have  not  been  "  dressing  up"  this  story  ;  it  is 

12* 


138        OLE  BULL  IN  THE  SOLITUDE. 

the  musician's  own  :  we  only  wish  that  we  could  pre 
sent  his  mixture  of  simplicity  and  earnestness  while 
telling  it.  «  Boz"  may  find  « sermons  in  stones," 
but  it  is  very  clear  that  they  must  be  London  stones  ; 
— it  takes  an  Ole  not  a  Johnny  Bull  to  find  music  in 
the  mud  of  the  "American  Bottom  !" 


. 


HOW  OUR  FRIEND  R-'S  HAIR  WENT. 


"  Hyperion'*  curls !  th«  front  of  Jove,  hinuelf!" 


OH,  those  curls !  not  your  fuzzy,  crispy,  questionable 
tortuosities,  indicative  of  either  a  mixed  breed,  or  a 
quarrelsome  temper,  but  a  raven  crop  of  Jlosscd  mid* 
nighty  (John  Neal  talks  of  Jlossed  sunshine,)  smothering 
in  its  own  luxuriance  ;  a  sea  of  curling  darkness,  roll 
ing  and  tossing  in  its  silent  play!  and  these  curls 

adorned  the  imperial  brows  of  our  friend  B .  We 

say  adorned,  for,  alas!  they  are  no  longer  adorning! 
They  have  fled  like  a  dream,  vanished  like  a  cloud, 
and  B is  as  bald  as  Caosar ! 

We  say  it — B is  as  bald  as  Csesar!  but  if  Caesar 

bared  his  baldness  half  as  majestically,  he  was  a  much 
better  looking  heathen  than  we  take  him  to  have  been. 

Why,  B 's  polished  outline  is  the  most  regal  thing 

we  know  of! — an  intellectual  porch,  over  which  looms, 
as  it  were,  the  mental  dome !  benevolence,  veneration, 
firmness,  self-esteem — full,  "  c/tocA>full,"  and  beauti 
fully  balanced!  And  then  the  shiny  whiteness  of 
the  surface,  as  if  the  moral  glory  beaming  within, 
absolutely  shone  through !  In  short,  a  head  of  Wash 
ington,  lit  up  for  a  4th  of  July  night,  is  «  no  circum 
stance"  to  the  benign  front  of  our  friend  B . 

The  next  inquiry  is,  how  did  our  friend  B lose 

130 


140  HOW   OUR  FRIEND   B— 1S   HAIR  WENT. 

his  hair  ?  Thus !  Could  a  man  with  such  a  head  be 
other  than  a  Whig  ?  Certainly  nol !  And,  the  most 
thorough-going  Whig  of  his  flourishing  city,  he  left  the 
banks  of  one  of  the  great  lakes,  as  a  delegate  to  the 
Baltimore  Convention,  last  May.  May  1844! — that 
glorious — but  everybody  has  read  the  papers. 

There  were  a  great  many  heads  in  Baltimore — wise 
heads,  and  long  heads,  and  fine  heads,  and  swelled 
heads,  but  there  was  no  head  to  compare  with  the  head 
of  the  Michigan  delegation !  he,  or  it,  were  aJiead  of 
every  thing.  Joy !  hope !  triumph !  Whig  rule !  And, 

with  every  increasing  round  of  rapture,  B 's  head 

became  more  resplendent,  till,  at  length,  came  the  grand 
procession.  B must  tell  the  rest  himself. 

"  Procession !  sixteen  leagues  long,  by  thunder !  My 
riads  of  freemen — throngs  of  beauty !  Whar  was  Michi 
gan  on  that  great  day  ?  In  the  midst  of  the  triumph, 
and  I  at  its  head,  boss !  Balconies  bending ;  muslin 
and  cambric  fluttering !  Hurrah  for  Clay  !  Up  comes 

one  of  my  aids ; — <  B ,  for  God's  sake,  don't  give 

the  word  to  cheer  any  more — boys  all  hoarse,  now.' 
Hoarse  !  here,  hold  my  hat — go  it  alone,  by  thunder, 
for  old  Michigan.  Whoo-rah—for — Clay,  and  the  La 
dies  !  Whew  *  didn't  the  cambric  flutter  then  ? — couldn't 
stand  it !  Just  run  my  right  hand,  then  my  left,  through 
my  hart  lock  after  lock,  out  they  came,  gave'em  to  the 
winds — saw'era  mount  towards  the  balconies,  beauty 
striving for'em !  then,  wasn't  Michigan  a  star!  Women 
screamed  and  men  hollowed — gals  snatched,  and  hand 
kerchiefs  fluttered,  and  on  I  went,  right  and  left — left 
and  right — feather  bed  in  the  air  a  fool  to  it !  front 
locks  and  side  curls,  side  curls  and  front  locks,  quicker 
and  thicker 9  and  the  whole  d — d  universe  full  of  nothing 


HOW  OUR  FRIEND  B — *S  HAIR  WENT.  141 

but  me  and  Michigan,  until  every  bar  was  gone,  and 
all  I  could  do  was  to  blow  kisses  untill  all  creation 
seemed. just  gathered  together  to  hug  me!  Well,  by 
this  time,  my  voice  had  followed  my  hary  when  up  we 
came  to  a  perfect  conflagration  of  beauty !  four  story 
double  house  covered  all  over  with  it,  and  one  splendid 
creature  cried  out, «  Three  cheers  for  Michigan  T  Whew, 
thunder !  hadn't  a  lock  on  my  head,  or  a  note  in  my 
voice !  Up  came  same  d — d  Aid,  and,  says  he,  « Why 
don't  you  give  the  word  to  cheer  ?' — Couldn't  do  it — 
snatched  my  hat  from  him,  held  it  up  to  both  sides  of 
the  street — Take  my  hat! — they  understood  me — nine 
cheers — nine  more  from  Michigan — 

"  Stop !  look  here,  by  thunder,  what'll  you  take  ?~so 
dry  I  can't  remember  the  rest  of  that  immortal  day, — 
but  that's  the  way  I  lost  my  har!  A  leetle  bitters  in  it, 
if  you  please — thankee. 

«  Well,  I'd  now  got  to  hum  to  my  wife,  and  what 
on  airth  was  I  to  do  for  my  har !  Friend  suggested  a 
wig,  but  <  no,'  says  I,  « I'll  go  the  naked  truth,  by 
thunder !  Old  woman's  Clay  all  over,  and  the  chief 
difficulty  will  be  to  make  her  believe  it's  me,  that's  all  !* 
Well,  hum  I  got,  and  my  friend  stuck  close  all  the  way, 
so  as  to  be  able  to  swear  to  the  individual ;  and  first 
thing  I  did  was  to  appear  before  a  magistrate,  and 
cursed  if  he  knew  me !  So  my  friend  just  swore  to  me, 
reg'lar,  and  up  I  went  hum  with  the  papers.  Well,  in 
I  went,  with  my  hat  off^  so  as  to  give  her  the  full  front 
of  it  at  once  ;  and,  first,  she  kind  a  come  forward,  and 
then  she  kind  a  went  back ;  and  then  her  eyes  began 
opening,  and  then  her  mouth  followed,  and  at  last  she 
bursted  out! — 

«  <  Why  B ,  'taint  you  /'     Well,  I  came  mighty 


142  HOW   OUR    FRIEND    B  — 's   HAIR   WENT. 

nigh  a  burstin'  out  laughing,  myself,  but  I  kept  mum, 
hauled  out  the  affidavit,  and  she  read  it ;  and  what  be 
tween  surprise  and  affliction,  hanged  if  the  tears  didn't 
come  in  her  eyes,  and  then  the  joke  was  over.  <  If 
you  don't  b'lieve  that,  wife,  here's  my  affidavit  to  back 
it ;'  I  just  took  her  in  my  arms  and  kissed  the  book,  I 
tell  you ! 

«  Fellows,  there's  nothing  like  a  touch  of  nature.  If 
she  stopped  a  going  on  forgiving  me  till  next  morning, 
I  wish  I  may  be  shot !" 


• 

' 


A  FANCY  BARKEEPER. 


OUR  friend,  Breeze,  is  the  roundest,  loudest,  hardest, 
happiest  host  among  the  host  of  hosts  with  whom  we 
are  acquainted !  He  keeps  the  « largest  kind"  of  a 
house,  the  loudest  sort  of  a  gong,  and  the  longest 
spread  of  a  table  !  Moreover,  his  servants  are  always 
"here,"  he,  himself,  is  always  there,  and  the  guest  who 
can't  be  happy  under  such  circumstances  had  better  be 
nowhere ! 

Breeze,  of  course,  keeps  a  bar,  and  before  he  under 
took  the  business  at  all,  having,  naturally,  consulted 
everybody  with  regard  to  his  prospects,  and  everybody 
having  told  him  that  they,  a  "good  deal,  depended 
upon  circumstances!"  and  Breeze  understanding  that 
those  circumstances  included,  particularly,  a  "  good 
bar"  and  a  «  polite  barkeeper,"  after  laying  in  his 
"  liquors,"  set  about  making  inquiries  for  an  efficient 
toddy  dispenser. 

A  good-looking  man  he  must  be,  of  course;  a  man, 
moreover,  with  somewhat  of  taste  in  dress  as  well  as 
address  ;  a  man  of  pleasant  manners,  but,  most  distinct 
ly,  of  sufficient  discretion ;  for  even  pleasantry  may, 
occasionally,  be  «  run  into  the  ground."  A  trilling 
eccentricity  would  be  no  decided  objection,  nay  it 
might,  perhaps,  be  a  recommendation — the  other  ne 
cessary  conditions  holding  good,  for  a  man  may  be  none 

143 


144  A  FANCY  BARKEEPER. 

the  less  «  gentlemanly"  for  being  «  a  character,"  and 
being  thus  popularly  estimated  and  received,  is,  certain 
ly,  no  detriment  to  a  barkeeper  in  his  vocation.  The 
requisites,  then,  simply  stood  as  follows :  A  good-look 
ing  man,  a  well-dressed  man,  an  agreeable  man,  a  dis 
creet  man,  an  eccentric  man — under  certain  restraints, 
in  short,  a  fancy  man — a  «  Fancy  Barkeeper !" 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  that  failures  and  disap 
pointments  were  encountered  by  our  friend  Breeze  hi 
his  search,  and  that  only  by  strangely  concatenated 
circumstances,  was  this  highly  concentrated  individual 
at  length  discovered !     He  was  discovered  though,  and 
Breeze  was  a  happy  and  prosperous  man,  in  his  own 
and  everybody  else's  estimation ! — the  bar  was  popu 
lar,  the  mixtures  unexceptionable,  and  «  Twirl"  (we'll 
call  him  Twirl)  exhibited  a  rare  combination  of  the 
icy"  elements!    In  the  matter  of  eccentricity  he 
was  perfect  to  a  charm ;  he  never  overdid  the  business, 
and  the  manner  of  it  was  the  most  unique  thing  in  the 
world !     He  was  remarkably  quick  and  dapper ;  his 
inquiries  were  always  abbreviated — for  instance,  a  gin 
cocktail  was  "gin-cock?"  plain  brandy  was  "brandy 
p  ?"   and   then  there  was  « brandy  wat-?"  "  brandy 
sug-?"  &c.,  &c. ;  but  the  most  delightful  of  all  was  the 
flourish  which  accompanied  each  action !  He  was  clearly 
of  a  poetic  instead  of  a  mathematic  turn,  for  angles  or 
straight  lines  he  neither  thought  nor  moved  in  ;  circles 
were  his  existence,  from  which  he  never  departed, 
farther  than  an  occasional  elipse  ;  the  man  was  a  sphere 
— each  act  had  its  axis ;  he  was  a  tireless  illustration 
of  the  laws  centrifugal,  and  centripetal  as  well,  for 
however  he  might  fly  off,  there  was  a  sure  and  graceful 
return  to  the  centre ;  such  a  thing  as  a  tangent  was 


A  FANCY   BARKEEPER.  145 

impossible,  and  his  system,  though  called  eccentric, 
was  considered  as  sure  as  the  solar  one !  He  never 
put  a  tumbler  straight  down,  it  alighted  from  his  hand, 
after  .a  series  of  gyrations,  with  a  graceful  curve.  He 
never  handed  a  "  gin-cock"  straight  out,  it  invariably 
"  cut  an  8"  before  it  was  submitted  ;  and  then  the  way 
in  which  half  dollars  were  spun  into  the  drawer,  and 
the  "  hey,  presto"  flourish,  with  which  the  "  change" 
was  returned,  was  a  matter  of  the  most  pleasing  enjoy 
ment  to  all !  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  to  see  half  a 
dozen  heavy-bottomed  tumblers  making  the  most  lively 
demonstrations  on  the  counter,  all  at  the  same  moment, 
— waltzing,  dos-a-dos-ing,  turning  partners,  every  thing 
but  indulging  in  a  direct  "chassez  forward  ;"  this  never 
happened  under  the  most  hurried  circumstances ! 

Nor  was  this  « poetry  of  motion"  confined  to  the 
empty  ones  only ;  "  brandy  p's"  and  gin-tods  fre 
quently  went  through  the  same  evolutions,  without 
"  spilling  a  drop,"  and  even  corpulent  decanters  and 
waistless  champaign  glasses,  occasionally  joined  the 
"  mazy  round."  Breeze  was  a  happy  man  ;  he  even 
appeared  to  have  caught  something  of  the  circling  in 
fection,  for  instead  of  walking,  he  seemed  to  undulate  ! 
instead  of  going  straight  up-stairs,  we  have  seen  him 
often  ascending  in  a  sort  of  wavy  line,  as  if  fresh  from 
the  contemplation  of  Hogarth's  "  line  of  beauty !"  As 
to  an  equilateral  triangle  or  zig-zag,  he  was  no  longer 
capable  of  such  a  vulgarity ! 

While  this  harmonious  arrangement  succeeded  thus 
admirably  in  the  bar,  things  were  rather  round-about, 
also,  in  the  dining-room,  but,  unfortunately,  not  with 
the  same  result — for  in  this  case,  somehow,  the} 
wouldn't  "work  straight,"  and  Breeze  thought  it  would 

13 


146  A   FANCY    BARKEEPER. 

be  all  right  if  he  could  induce  Mr.  Twirl,  on  an  in 
creased  salary,  to  take  the  management  of  the  "  table 
fixens,"  and  circle  them  into  something  like  system. 
Mr.  Twirl  consented,  but  Mr.  Twirl  was,  after  all,  but 
mortal,  and  such  had  been  the  success  of  his  twirling, 
that  it  turned  his  head,  and  no  wonder ;  however,  he 
undertook  the  dining-room  bodies,  and  Breeze,  in  his 
ecstasy,  invited  a  few  of  his  particular  friends  to  wit 
ness  the  triumph  of  his  motions,  confident  that  a  plane 
tarium  would  be  a  "fool  to  them." 

The  gong  b-r-r-ang-ang-wang~w-r-ranged  !  the  doors 
flew  open  with  a  slap-dash!  the  crowd  rushed  in, 
scuffle  —  shuffle !  hats  —  chairs  —  napkins  —  knives — 
«  good  as  you  are" — Hail  Columbia !  Breeze  stuck  to 
his  accustomed  plan  of  presiding  at  the  head  of  his 
own  table. 

Twirl  was  in  command,  every  man  was  at  his  post, 
and  now  then  for  "something  like  regularity!"  The 
signal  flourish  was  given,  and  as  many  arms  made  a 
circling  sweep  upon  as  many  covers,  which  instantly 
made  a  circling  ascension  into  the  air,  where  they  were 
flutteringly  arrested.  The  signal  to  turn  was  then 
given  ;  but,  instead  of  all  wheeling  to  the  right,  every 
other  man,  somehow,  wheeled  to  the  left,  and  a  delicious 
crash  of  tin — cymbal-like  in  tone,  or  rather  more  so — 
over  the  heads  of  the  startled  guests,  was  the  conse 
quence  !  This  was  awkward ;  but  the  bodies  were 
awkward,  and  as  Mr.  Twirl  might  almost  be  regarded 
as  occupying  the  position  of  a  worker  in  chaos,  the 
collision  was  to  be  excused.  Round  came  the  soup, 
about  fluttered  the  plates,  pitchers  were  handled  with 
that  playful  motion  peculiar  to  the  use  of  the  watering- 


A  FANCY  BARKEEPER.  147 

pot;  there  was  a  considerable  spilling  of  gravy,  and  a 
liberal  sprinkling  of  pants,  while  the  somewhat  un 
usually  elated  Mr.  Twirl,  over  an  immense  sirloin  of 
<*Toast,"  went  through  the  broadsword  exercise  in  the 
most  formidable  manner !  The  affair  waxed  hotter ! — 
circle,  sweep,  splash,  sprinkle — while,  occasionally, 
encroaching  upon  each  other's  orbits,  the  bodies  would 
jostle,  to  the  inevitable  destruction  of  «  wares,"  if  not 
to  their  own  entire  precipitation  from  the  system!  The 
dinner-table,  however,  in  America,  as  we  are  now  and 
then  reminded  by  tourists,  is  more  the  scene  of  action 
than  of  observation ;  and  though  Mr.  Breeze  was  much 
distracted  in  his  appetite,  he  had  still  strong  faith  in 
science. 

The  first  rush  was  over,  and  wine  began  to  circulate, 
when  Mr.  Twirl,  more  strangely  elated  than  ever,  ab 
solutely  spun  himself  into  the  midst  of  his  favorite  accom 
plishment.  Such  a  ringing  and  rolling  of  bottles  and 
glasses  over  the  bare  mahogany  had  never  been  dreamt 
of!  but,  contrary  to  use,  there  was  a  smash  here,  and  a 
crash  there,  and  Mr.  "  So-and-so's  compliments"  were 
hardly  ever  delivered  without  a  delivery  of  wine,  at  the 
same  time,  at  least  equal  to  three  times  the  capacity  of 
the  glass;  and,  finally,  a  decanter  of  port,  spinning 
directly  into  Mr.  Breeze's  own  lap,  at  the  same  instant 
that  Mr.  Twirl  evinced  an  evident  desire  to  throw  a 
somerset  over  the  table,  led  the  amazed  landlord  to 
examine  more  particularly  the  state  of  his  regulator ! 
and,  must  we  say  it !  will  yon  central  orb  forgive  it  ? 
will  its  dependent  family  of  worlds  believe  it  ?  Mr, 
Twirl  was  wound  up,  used  up,  done  up,  in  short  he 
was  very  drunk ! 

With  an  oppressed  spirit,  Mr.  Breeze  directed  his 


148  *  A   FANCY   BARKEEPER. 

"patent  revolving"  prodigy  to  "go  straight  to  bed" 
as  if  in  any  disarrangement  of  his  motions  such  a  thing 
were  possible !  He  was  finally  "  come  round,"  how 
ever,  and  placed  there,  but  whether  he  has  ever  arisen 
therefrom,  we  are  not  prepared  to  say,  as  that  was  'the 
last  seen  or  known  of  the  «  Fancy  Barkeeper." 


"MR.  NOBBLE!" 

. 


BY  JOS.  M.  FIELD,  ESQ.,  OF  THE  ST.  LOUIS  "  REVEILLE." 

If  the  capital  sketch  subjoined  was  not  written  by  the  facetious 
"Straws,"  alia*  «« Everpoint,"  of  the  **  Picayune"  and 
" Reveille,"  then,  like  Billy  Black,  we  "gives  it  up !"  The 
44  Reveille*  is  one  of  the  best  daily  papers  west  of  the 
Alleghanies,  yet  its  editor  has  found  leisure  to  write  some 
most  amusing  stories,  a  prize  comedy  or  two,  and  play  several 
profitable  engagements  at  the  theatres  of  the  southwest  within 
the  last  year !  We  hear  it  is  his  intention  to  give  the  world 
a  collection  of  his  miscellaneous  prize  writings  soon,  through 
the  medium  of  the  publishers  of  this  work;  it  should  and 
will,  doubtlessly,  command  an  immense  sale. 

"  MISTER  NOBBLE  !" 

Mr.  Nobble  was  venturing  very  carefully  along  an 
uncertain  staging,  which  afforded  an  equally  uncertain 
passage  from  a  ship  alongside  the  wharf,  to  a  vessel 
bound  from  a  port  "  'way  Down  East"  to  a  port  "  'way 
off  South  ;"  and  Mr.  Nobble,  at  the  moment  when  the 
shrill  and  imperative  summons  reached  his  ear,  was 
mentally  and  physically  contriving  how  he  should  pre 
vent  one  child's  tub,  one  ditto  clothes'  horse,  one  night 
lamp,  two  flat  irons,  a  dozen  of  oranges,  two  pounds  of 
sago,  a  box  of  Guava  jelly,  one  bottle  of  "  choice  old 
port,"  (not  to  be  shaken,)  and  himself—  the  arrears  of  the 
family  requisitions  for  the  voyage — from  tumbling  over 
board! 

13*  H9 


150  "MR.  NOBBWE." 


The  provident  and  peculiarly  placed  gentleman 
alluded  to,  was  at  this  moment  in  the  "  worst  place  ;" 
and  one  of  the  planks  "  waggling"  awfully,  and  his 
own  knees,  moreover,  assisting  the  "  disturbing  causes," 
some  two  hundred  most  deeply  interested  spectators, 
with  great  concern,  saw  Mr.  Nobble's  oranges,  like  a 
flock  of  sheep,  bound  one  after  the  other  into  the  water, 
attempting  to  arrest  which,  Mr.  Nobble  unfortunately 
released  the  tub  from  his  arm,  which  stooping  to  catch, 
Mr.  Nobble  unfortunately  entangled  his  legs  in  the 
"  horse,"  at  the  same  time  losing  his  hat  and  dropping 
the  flat  irons  on  his  toes  ;  —  crowning  this  succession  of 
disasters  by  falling  flat  on  his  face,  crushing  the  jelly 
and  smashing  the  port  —  certain  sailors,  in  their  anxiety 
to  pick  up  the  owner,  busily  kicking  his  remaining 
scatterings  overboard,  to  be  subsequently  secured  to 
their  own  profit. 

"Mr.  Wobble!" 

An  extremely  novel  and  striking  tableau  was  presented 
on  the  poop  of  the  outside  vessel,  having  scratched  both 
his  knees  through  his  pantaloons  in  his  desperate  haste 
to  rise  and  rescue  his  "  stores,"  had  finally  precipitated 
himself  over  the  rail  upon  the  deck,  where  he  now  stood 
before  a  very  pale  and  anxious,  though  stout-looking 
elderly  lady,  tightly  grasping  in  his  hand  the  neck  of 
the  port  bottle.  Going  into  details,  it  should  be  stated, 
that  the  lady  supported  on  her  knee  a  sodden-looking 
infant,  which  was  painting  its  face  with  a  stick  of 
molasses  candy,  while  a  very  wide-mouthed  urchin, 
who  had  just  "  put  his  eye  out,"  as  his  mother  insisted, 
against  a  "  belaying  pin,"  was  ingratiating  himself  in 


"MR.  NOBBLE."  151 

the  favour  of  the  assembled  passengers  by  yelling  out 
all  sorts  of  unusual  murders  at  her  side.  An  Irish 
nurse,  who  contented  herself  with  standing  by  and  say 
ing*  grurolyj  "  0>  it's  kilt  ye  are,  af  course !"  completed 
the  picture. 

"  Mr.  Nobble,  it's  all  nonsense !  I  can't  go  in  the  ship 
and  I  won'/-— you're  welcome  to  save  my  life  but  shan't 
do  it  on  salt  water !  Run  ashore  again  for  a  doctor— 
his  eye's  out  I  know  it  is,  and  after  all  there's  no  hive 
syrup  neither.  0,  my  gracious,  if  they  aint  loosening 
the  sails ! — and  your  friends  to  go  and  put  a  sea  voyage 
in  your  head  when  he's  always  a  climbing  and  playing 
with  water  and  no  place  to  do  the  baby's  washing  with  a 
wasting  disease  too  that's  robbing  the  child  and  starving 
it  daily  as  you  can  see  by  its  cheeks  *  Mr.  Nobble !' " 

Mr.  Nobble  was  a  placid  man,  of  extremely  family 
demeanor,  and  he  listened  to  this  perfectly  clear,  though 
rapid  statement  of  circumstances,  with  the  air,  though 
by  no  means  the  indifference ,  of  a  man  who  was  used  to 
it.  Mrs.  N.  was  an  invalid,  nervous — opposed  to  the 
voyage,  and,  albeit  he  himself  "  suffered  dreadfully," 
he  was  constitutionally  a  "family  man,"  and  expected 
annoyances.  Forgetting  his  mishap,  he  was  about  to 
soothe  his  partner,  when  the  younger  Nobble  stopped 
his  bawling  to  kick  the  nurse  on  the  shins,  which  ope 
ration  he  followed  by  pitching  his  head  into  her  stomach 
and  fixing  his  teeth  into  her  leg. 

« Mr.  Nobble!" 

A  score  of  sailors  running  aft  with  a  hawser  scattered 
the  Nobbles,  and  as  the  vessel  swung  round,  her  bows 
into  the  stream,  the  numerous  passengers  congratulated 
themselves  upon  a  comfortable  prospect  with  that  inte 
resting  family. 


152  "MR.  HOBBLE.** 

"Mr.  Nobble !"  (very faintly.) 

The  present  summons  came  from  the  after-state-room 
of  the  gentlemen's  cabin,  for  Mr.  Nobble  had  been  too 
late  to  secure  berths  in  the  ladies'  division— much  to 
the  regret  of  the  feminine  gender  on  board.  The  night 
lamp  swung  with  great  regularity  from  the  centre  of  the 
battened  down  "  sky-light,"  as  the  ship  rolled  heavily ; 
there  was  a  dismal  creaking  and  grinding  of  her  timbers 
as  if  she  felt  rfieumatic,  and  was  endeavouring  to  say 
so ;  while  ever  and  anon  came  a  hoarse  voice  above, 
followed  by  a  tramping  of  feet  and  a  sudden  fall  of  coils 
of  rope  upon  the  thin  poop  deck,  making  one  jump 
again! 

"Mr.  Nobble!"  (very  sharply.) 

To  admit  light,  a  child's  chair  had  been  interposed 
between  the  door  and  Mrs.  N.'s  state-room,  Which  chair 
was  now  undergoing  a  battering  attack,  from  and  on 
account  of  the  said  door,  with  each  roll  of  the  ship ;  a 
feminine  undergarment,  which  had  been  ingeniously 
secured  between  handle  and  latch  as  a  screen  from 
masculine  curiosity,  was  waving  triumphantly  with  every 
"  slam  ;"  a  fat  figure  in  shirt  and  pantaloons,  stretched 
on  the  dining-table,  with  his  feet  braced  against  the 
main-mast,  snored  with  an  abrupt  snort  as  the  heavier 
rolls  recalled  him  occasionally  to  a  sort  of  consciousness, 
and,  finally,  with  the  third  "Mr.  JVb&ble,"  which 
sounded  for  all  the  world  like  the  clip  of  a  pair  of  scis 
sors,  a  very  yellow  face,  topped  by  a  red  handkerchief, 
was  raised  above  the  table,  and  Mr.  N.,  in  a  dressing 
gown,  advanced  anxiously  but  carefully  to  his  partner. 

"  Julia  ?"  moaned  inquiringly  Mr.  Nobble. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,  at  last,  Mr.  Nobble,  with  my 


"MR.  NOBBLE."  153 

dying  words  ringing  in  your  ears  for  the  last  hour— all 
the  water  spilt,  and  no  more  in  the  wide  ocean  I  suppose, 
to  keep  one  from  choking — and  won't  stay  on  one's 
stomach  neither — without  strength  for  a  change  of 
clothes  and  two  children ! — Don't  tell  me  to  be  patient, 
with  a  wasting  disease,  and  the  door  slamming, — there 
by  yourself,  in  a  cool  public  cabin,  a-snoring  ! — Yes  it 
was  you,  Mr.  Nobble — I  know  your  snore  if  I  know 
any  thing  about  you — and  Johnny  calling  to  you,  too, 
ever  so  long,  to  keep  the  girl  from  rolling  out  of  the 
upper  berth  over  him  in  the  next  room  out  in  the  Gulf 
Stream  as  you  call  it,  and  no  faith  in  a  southern  climate 
— with  a  constant  croup  and  no  squills  if  it  was  taken 
this  minute ! — Mr.  Nobble,  are  you  snoring  again,  while 
I'm  talking  to  you  ? — Yes,  you  are,  I  say !  Eh  ?  the  fat 
gentleman  on  the  table !  I  knew  so, — and  exposed  to 
every  eye  with  my  knees  to  my  chin  to  keep  steady — 
there  goes  the  child ! — Gracious  goodness,  it'll  choke, 
and  the  stewardess  asleep,  too,  without  an  emetic  among 
the  passengers! — convulsions! — Yes,  it  is! — convul 
sions  ! — don't  tell  me, — and  it  may  die  for  warm  water, 
for  all  you're  good  for — stewardess  ?  Don't  you  hear 
me  call  *  stewardess  ?'  Mr.  Nobble !  And  not  a  female 
to  feel  for  me  with  even  a  hot  towel.  Mr.  Nobble? 
Oh  yes,  he's  gone  to  light  a  fire  and  be  washed  over 
board,  I  suppose — Hus-s-S'S-h'h  my  darling — nobody 
come  yet !  good  heavens — it's  dying !  Mr.  fat  passen 
ger  ?  Mr.  gentleman  asleep?  Oh,  that  door  again! — 
Mr.  Nobble  ? — And  not  a  short  gown  to  cover  myself — 
I  must  get  out — Hus-s-s-s-h-k,  then  ray  darling, — Mister 

Nobble? "   - 

Bv  this  time  the  captain  and  divers  passengers  had 


154  "**•  NOBBLE." 

"turned  out" — the  fat  gentleman  sat  up  nibbing  the 
back  of  his  neck — an  elderly  lady  appeared  with  the 
stewardess  from  the  after-cabin,  and  finally  Mr.  Nobble 
himself  staggered  in  from  the  deck,  bearing  a  tub  of  hot 
water.  The  baby,  at  the  same  time,  was  brought  out 
into  the  light,  to  ease  their  minds,  by  relieving  it's 
stomach  of  a  square  inch  of  cold  potato,  which,  in  spite 
of  Mr.  Nobble's  protestations,  Mrs.  N.  Icnew  that  he 
must  have  given  it  at  dinner,  as  he  was  never  satisfied 
unless  he  was  stuffing  it,  and,  moreover,  knew  no  more 
about  children  than  a  child  unborn  did  about  first 
trousers ! 

"Mister  Nobble!" 

The  vessel,  "  going  out  light,"  yet  almost  scraping 
the  bottom  of  the  "  middle  channel,"  was  gliding  over 
the  fairy  waters  of  the  "great  Bahama,"  its  "three 
fathoms"  revealing,  as  through  a  tinted  haze,  marine 
plant,  shining  spar,  and,  ever  and  anon,  the  strangely 
shaped  and  shadowy  haunters  of  the  coral  reefs.  Sea 
and  sky  mingled  their  transparent  fluids,  till  the  tinted 
sails — filled,  not  forced,  by  the  gentle  breeze — seemed 
like  so  many  summer  clouds  wafting  while  shading  the 
happy  watchers  of  their  progress.  An  awning  partially 
screened  the  "  poop,"  in  the  shadow  of  which  various 
groups  beguiled  the  time.  Cards,  books,  anecdote ; — 
three  or  four  smokers  in  straw  hats,  with  sun-burned 
faces,  sat  in  the  yawl  slung  on  the  lee  quarter ;  the  fat 
passenger  snored  on  the  skylight ;  a  lean  ditto  hastened 
his  consumption  by  playing  on  a  flute  to  the  after-rail ; 
Master  Johnny  had  his  legs  through  the  ratlins,  and  the 
Irish  nurse,  her  first  day  on  deck,  was  endeavouring  to 
draw  the  baby  up  and  down  in  a  claret-box. 


-  ^/1 


•  .  ..  •  -  ' 

. 

•  >  '.  •  T 

*  •     ••  •        .      -"•    •        ' 

' 

•       • ..'  • 

;-:'.       _  .' 

'  ' 

' 

--.'  ' 


.  .     " 

... 
' 

'."•    S      •""•  'f':  '  '        > 

.     -       - 

* 

& 


A.-.' 


'•••':   '-•' 

' 


.  .  ' 

'  .  '-      '      "         '  .  '          •  •  •       "  '         t       *•  ••       ' 

-.  ":        --       •    '   '  .-•'-'••    •'."  -'  •      's  •  "'  '  ••'  • 


,     0   r.;.,/'- 

^' 
Mr.  Nobble,  you»r«  not  going  to  )eair«  »eT»« 


"MB.  NOBBLE."  153 

"Mr.  Nobble!" 

Several  heads  appeared  struggling  up  the  steps  from 
the  lower  deck,  and  presently,  Mrs.  Nobble  securely 
braced  in  an  arm-chair  and  supported  by  the  captain, 
mate,  and  Mr.  N.,  was  placed  comfortably  against  the 
mizen.  The  appearance  of  real,  heartfelt  satisfaction 
with  which  the  anxious  and  evidently  stomach-rinsed 
husband  superintended  this  operation,  contrasted  rather 
strangely  with  the  yet  bilious  aspect  of  the  wife. 

"  Mr.  Nobble !  you're  not  agoing  to  leave  me  ?  Oh, 
take  me  down  again!  didn't  you  say  there  was  no 
motion — there!  don't  I  see  the  water  when  you  told 
me  we  were  on  the  bank  !  not  a  bit  of  land  to  be  seen 
and  two  horrid  weeks  with  constant  suffering  and  weak 
gruel.  Mercy  on  me,  where  are  we!  in  a  pea-green 
climate  as  I'm  a  sick  woman  and  there's  the  girl  a  stag 
gering  while  you  stand  here  and  care  no  more  for  the 
child  than  if  it  was  your  grand-uncle^-there !  I  felt  the 
chair  go, — no  danger,  indeed,  as  if  I  was  a  spider,  like 
the  sailors — gracious  goodness,  look  at  that  boy — you 
Johnny — Mr.  Nobble!  if  his  legs  aint  through — and  all 
his  knees  out,  his  new  pair,  too,  to  go  ashore  in  and 
nobody  to  offer  to  save  him  from  being  drowned  with  a 
swimming  in  his  "head — /  knew  it !  right  on  his  head  in 
the  lady's  lap  and  both  their  brains  knocked  out  or  it's 
a  mercy.  Much  your  father  cares,  my  child — it's  all 
Mr.  Nobble's  fault,  Ma'm,  with  your  constant  climbing, 
and  a  wasting  disease,  Ma'm,  that  keeps  me  from  look 
ing  after  them  and  you  know  what  a  family  is — what's 
that !  Mr.  Nobble !  only  a  squall  indeed,  don't  they  say 
it'll  strike  us — Captain !  can 't  we  go  the  otner  way  !  no 
I  won't  go  down,  nor  the  children  neither  to  be  swal- 


156  "MR.  NOBBLE." 

lowed  alive  and  there's  that  gentleman  asleep  and 

snoring  and — I  knew  it! " 

Mrs.  Nobble  had  made  a  poor  use  of  her  foreknow 
ledge,  for  at  this  instant  she  was  enveloped  in  the 
awning;  the  sails  were  let  go— " all  flying;"  a  mo 
ment's  whirlwind  was  succeeded  by  a  drenching  shower, 
and  Mr.  Nobble  explicitly  charged  with  his  wife's  death, 
(that  afflicted  lady  once  more  restored  to  her  state-room,) 
watched  her  patiently  till  she  slept,  and  meekly  pictured 
to  himself  the  probable  delights  of  a  winter  in  New 
Orleans. 


HONEY  RUN." 


«Mr,  DraffiaM,  you've  ft  mighty  .mall  chtnco  of  left,  there,  tny  how  l« 

Judgt  Douglau't  Story. 


THE  «  gentleman  from  Illinois"  is  not  the  only  gen 
tleman  whose  legs  have  led  him  into  embarrassment ! 
A  political  friend  of  ours,  equally  happy  in  his  man 
ners,  if  not  in  his  party,  among  the  Missouri  constitu 
ency,  found  himself,  while  canvassing  the  state  one 
summer  for  Congress,  in  even  a  more  peculiarly  per 
plexing  predicament  than  the  Illinois  judge. 

There  is  a  spot,  in  the  south-western  part  of  this 
state,  known  as  the  Fiery  Fork  of  Honey  Run — a  delicious 
locality,  no  doubt,  as  the  run  of  "  honey"  is,  of  course, 
accompanied  by  a  corresponding  flow  of  «  milk,"  and 
a  mixture  of  milk  and  honey,  or,  at  any  rate,  honey 
and  «  Peach"  is  the  evidence  of  sublunary  content 
ment,  every  place  where  they  have  preaching ! 

"  Honey  Run"  is  further  christianized  by  the  pre 
sence  of  an  extremely  hospitable  family,  whose  man 
sion,  comprising  one  apartment — neither  more  nor  less 
— is  renowned  for  being  never  shut  against  the  travel 
ler,  and  so  our  friend  found  it  during  the  chill  morning 
air,  at  the  expense  of  a  rheumatism  in  his  shoulder — 
its  numerous  unaffected  cracks  and  spaces  clearly  show- 

H  157 


158  HONEY  RUN. 

ing  that  dropping  the  latch  was  a  useless  formality. 
The  venerable  host  and  hostess,  in  their  one  apartment, 
usually  enjoy  the  society  of  two  sons,  four  daughters, 
sundry  dogs  and  "  niggers,"  and  as  many  lodgers  as 
may  deem  it  prudent  to  risk  the  somewhat  equivocal 
allotment  of  sleeping  partners.  On  the  night  in  ques 
tion,  our  friend,  after  a  hearty  supper  of  ham  and  eggs, 
and  a  canvass  of  the  Firey  Forkers — the  old  lady  hav 
ing  pointed  out  his  bed — felt  very  weary,  and  only 
looked  for  an  opportunity  to  "  turn  in,"  though  the 
mosquitoes  were  trumping  all  sorts  of  wrath,  and  no 
net  appeared  to  bar  them.  The  dogs  flung  themselves 
along  the  floor,  or  again  rose,  restlessly,  and  sought 
the  door-step  ;  the  "  niggers"  stuck  their  feet  in  the 
yet  warm  ashes  ;  the  old  man  stripped,  unscrupulously, 
and  sought  his  share  of  the  one  collapsed-looking  pil 
low,  and  the  sons  cavalierly  followed  his  example, 
leaving  the  old  woman,  «  gals,"  and  «  stranger,"  to 
settle  any  question  of  delicacy  that  might  arise. 

The  candidate  yawned,  looked  at  his  bed,  went  to 
the  door,  looked  at  the  daughters ;  finally,  in  down 
right  recklessness,  seating  himself  upon  «  the  downy," 
and  pulling  off  his  coat.  Well,  he  pulled  off  his  coat, 
and  he  folded  his  coat,  and  then  he  yawned,  and  then 
he  whistled,  and  then  he  called  the  old  lady's  atten 
tion  to  the  fact,  that  it  would  never  do  to  sleep  in 
his  muddy  trowsers  ;  and  then  he  «  undid"  his  vest, 
and  then  he  whistled  again,  and  then,  suddenly,  an 
idea  of  her  lodger's  possible  embarrassment  seemed 
to  flash  upon  the  old  woman,  and  she  cried — 

«  Gals,  jest  turn  your  backs  round  'till  the  stranger 
gits  into  bed." 
'  The  backs  were  turned,  and  the  stranger  did  get  into 


HONEY  RUN.  159 

bed  in  « less  than  no  time,"  when  the  hostess  again 
spoke : 

« Reckon,  stranger,  as  you  aint  used  to  us,  you'd 
better  kwer  up  till  the  gals  undress,  hadn't  you?" 

By  this  time  our  friend's  sleepy  fit  was  over,  and, 
though  he  did  "  kiver  up,"  as  desired,  some  how  or 
other  the  old  counterpane  was  equally  kind  in  hiding 
his  blushes,  and  favoring  his  sly  glances.  The  nymphs 
were  soon  stowed  away,  for  there  were  neither  bustles 
to  unhitch  nor  corsets  to  unlace,  when  their  mamma, 
evidently  anxious  not  to  smother  her  guest,  consider 
ately  relieved  him. 

"  You  can  unkiver  now,  stranger ;  I'm  married 
folks)  and  you  ain't  afeard  o'  me,  I  reckon !" 

The  stranger  happened  to  be  «  married  folks"  him 
self;  he  unkivered  and  turned  his  back  with  true  con 
nubial  indifference,  as  far  as  the  ancient  lady  was 
concerned;  but,  with  regard  to  the  "ga/s,"  he  de 
clares  that  his  half-raised  curiosity  inspired  the  most 
tormenting  dreams  of  mermaids  that  ever  he  e.xpe-. 
rienced. 


A  "HUNG"  JURY. 


AMONG  the  dispensers  of  justice  in  a  certain  central 
ward  of  old  St.  Louis,  during  its  unpretending,  <<  even* 
banded"  days,  was  'Squire  W .  His  astute  com 
prehension  of,  and  rigid  adherence  to,  legal  proprieties 
are  yet  recollected.  A  case  was  submitted  to  him, 
<<  once  on  a  time ;"  but,  his  decision  not  satisfying  one 
of  the  parties,  (very  likely  to  occur,  by-the-by,  even  in 
primitive  ages,)  the  case  was  «  continued ;"  which 
further  step,  according  to  the  rule  in  justices'  courts, 
now  as  then,  involves  the  ceremony  and  expense  of  a 
jury. 

The  second  trial  came  on,  unfortunately,  upon  a 
morning  which,  for  some  good  cause  or  other,  the 
whole  town  had  devoted  to  jubilee  and  rejoicing — 
whether  it  was  that  a  great  man  was  to  be  "  received," 
or  another  great  man  dismissed,  it  is  immaterial ;  suf 
fice  it  that  guns  and  drums  equally  did  their  duty  in 
calling  the  citizens  away  from  theirs. 

Plaintiff  and  defendant  were  punctual  in  their  at 
tendance  before  the  justice,  anxious  to  settle  their  dif 
ference — just  as  anxious  to  have  their  share  of  the  show 
—and  the  officer  was  despatched  to  collect  a  jury ;  but, 
after  a  no  less  anxious  search,  he  was  obliged  to  return 
160 


A   HUNG  JURY.  161 

without  a  man,  his  summons  going  for  nothing  in  the 
general  excitement. 

Impatient  at  the  delay,  the  parties  litigant  agreed  to 
wave  the  matter  of  a  jury  altogether  ;  to  just  re-argue 
the  matter  and  abide  by  «  His  Honor's"  decision.  But 
His  Honor  had  his  own  more  reverend  parade  of  the 
law  to  enjoy,  and,  therefore,  with  a  chief  justice  air,  he 
declared  that,  inasmuch  as  that  the  case  had  been  con 
tinued,  and  that  the  purpose  of  said  continuance  was 
entirely  to  obtain  the  sense  of  a  jury,  it  would  be  all 
nonsense  to  proceed  in  any  less  regular  way.  "  There 
fore,  Mr.  Constable,"  continued  the  'Squire,  "  you 
will,  by  virtue  of  your  authority,  summon  and  compel 
the  presence  of  a  jury  forthwith." 

The  constable  again  set  forth,  the  "  bench"  relapsed 
into  abstruse  cogitation,  and  the  plaintiff  and  defend 
ant  were  fain  to  content  themselves  with  the  hope  of 
getting  clear  "  after  a  while." 

Wearily  went  the  moments  ;  but,  at  length,  the  in 
defatigable  officer,  bathed  in  perspiration,  returned, 
having  secured  one  well-known,  easy-going  citizen, 
remarkable  as  being  the  largest,  lovingest,  and  laziest 
man  about  town. 

«  'Squire,"  said  the  panting  official,  « I've  gotten 
Bob,  'cause  he  says  it  don't  make  much  difference  to 
him ;  but  there  isn't  nary  nother  as  don't  say  they'll 

see  me  d d  first,  and  so  the  thing's  out,  as  far  as 

my  footin'  on  it  goes,  I  reckon !"  The  constable 
wiped  his  brow  with  determination,  the  justice  began 
to  foresee  a  dilemma,  and  nothing  but  the  "  costs" 
prevented  "  the  parties,"  in  spite  of  their  attorneys, 
from  flipping  up  "  head  or  tail"  for  an  issue. 

At  length  the  constable  made  a  suggestion,  which 
14* 


162  A  HUNG  JURY. 

the  "  parties"  eagerly  consenting  to,  the  'Squire  finally 
sanctioned.  This  was,  that  Bob,  the  lazy  gentleman 
just  mentioned,  should  serve  as  jury  «  all  alone  by 
himself!" 

All  was  settled  at  once ;  the  lazy  gentleman  de 
clared  that  it  "  made  no  difference,"  and,  getting  "  a 
chew"  from  the  constable,  down  he  sat.  The  plead 
ings  were  despatched  ;  the  jury  was  charged ;  the  ap 
proaching  procession  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and 
all  parties  were  only  waiting  to  hear  the  verdict,  when 
the  jury,  after  one  or  two  indolent  hitches  in  his  chair, 
and  a  leisurely  discharge  of  tobacco  juice  from  be 
tween  his  teeth,  turned  to  the  court  and  said — 

"  Well,  I  reckon,  'Squire,  the  jury'll  have  to  retire." 

This  was  unexpected,  and  had  not  been  altogether 

the  mode,  either,  injustice  W 's  court,  inasmuch  as 

there  was  no  place  for  the  jury  to  retire  to,  except 
within  themselves ;  but  the  present  body  was  unani 
mously  of  opinion  that  he  ought  to  have  a  fair  shake 
at  the  merits  of  the  case,  and  so  the  court  adjourned 
to  the  sidewalk,  leaving  the  jury  all  to  himself,  with 
his  heels  on  the  table. 

Moment  after  moment  passed  away ;  the  litigants 
every  now  and  then  cast  a  glance  in  at  the  conscien 
tious  umpire  ;  the  procession  was  evidently  approach 
ing  along  the  next  street,  and,  suddenly,  the  «  oppo 
site  counsel"  excusing  themselves,  walked  off  towards 
the  corner.  Drums,  hurrahs,  &c.,  now  began  to  swell 
upon  the  air,  and  plaintiff  and  defendant,  after  sundry 
inquiries  as  to  the  chances,  even  marched  off  also,  leav 
ing  the  'squire  and  constable  to  receive  the  verdict. 
The  constable  next  became  impatient,  and,  finally,  the 


A  BUNG  JURY.  -       163 

'squire  himself  got  the  fidgets ;  each  moment  seemed 
an  age,  until  the  dubious  twelfth  was  just  asked  if 
he  was  "  going  to  take  the  whole  day  or  not  ?" 

^  Well,  the  fact  is,  'Squire,  the  jury  can't  agree,  no 
how.  We're  just  hwigy  and  no  mistake ;  and,  if 
you  can't  let  us  stay  out,  why  you'd  better  discharge 
us,  by  thunder !" 

The  jury  was  discharged !  • 


.  - 
. 


*    , 

. 


PATERNAL  GUSHINGS. 


SOME  one  went  into  <<  fits  and  dem'd  raptures,"  as 
Mantalini  would  have  it,  last  month,  in  the  Knicker 
bocker,  about  a  baby,  a  boy-baby,  a  fifteen-pound-boy- 
baby  being  born  to  him !  Does  he  know  that  he  is  a  green 
horn  ?  Does  he  know  that  he  yet  knows  nothing  ?  A 
«  fifteen  pound"  is  a  "  whopper"  to  be  sure — a  "  fine 
child,"  and  it  may  have  its  "  father's  nose"  and  all 
that ;  but,  we  repeat  it,  he  knows  nothing,  he  has  never 
had  twins  !  twins — ye  gods !  a  pair  of  'em  !  naked, 
little,  rosy,  bawling  busters !  in  vestis  cubicularis!  If 
he  had,  he  might  talk.  If  he'd  ever  had,  afterwards, 
twelve  women  hauling  him  about,  and  telling  him  he 
was  the  luckiest  man  in  the  world — passing  the  swad 
dled  ones  from  hand  to  hand,  with  kisses  ringing  like 
shots ; — the  hee-e-e  wd-e-e  of  the  cherubs — mamma 
«  doing  well,"  lying  in  lavender  with  a  frilled  cap  on, 
smiling  like  a  soul  in  bliss,  and  insisting  on  having  'em 
both  back,  for  she  "  knows  they  want  her" — If  he'd 
ever  had  big  he  fists  slapped  on  his  shoulders,  wicked 
fingers  punched  into  his  ribs,  his  health  drank  with 
"  hurrah's,"  while  merry  voices  have  declared  that  he 
ought  to  be  " ashamed  of  himself;" — going  home, 
then  his  heart  dancing,  his  head  singing,  feathers  to  his 
heels,  making  but  two  steps  from  curb-stone  to  curb- 
1(54 


PATERNAL   GUSHINGS.  165 

stone,  his  latch-key  ready  six  squares  off,  and,  once 
inside,  springing  up  stairs,  boots  in  his  hand,  a  story 
at  a  time ; — we  say,  if  going  home  so,  and  opening  the 
chamber  door,  as  fain  to  glide  in  through  the  key-hole 
he  had  ever  been  stopped  by  the  nurse's  "  hush,"  and, 
directed  by  her  finger  to  the  bed,  had  contemplated — 
what?  ye  gods!  Heaven,  peace,  contentment,  love, 
ecstasy — too  big  for  speech,  too  full  not  to  run  over ; 
tears!  yes,  grateful,  heart-swelling,  hope-crowning, 
joyous  tears !  Fast  asleep,  all !  think  of  saying  «  a///" 
calm,  lovely  sleep ;  a  rose  and  two  buds ;  bosoms 
heaving,  a  harmony  of  sighs,  .dEolian  whispers  stirring 
with  melody  every  heaven-strung  chord  in  the  bosom 
of  the  happiest  dog  alive !  Had  he  ever,  too  excited 
to  go  to  his  lone  bed  in  the  next  room,  laid  down  in 
his  trowsers,  gazed  towards  the  shading  curtains,  listened 
to  the  little  nestlings,  the  fussy  kickings — the — the —  ? 
We  again  and  again  say  it,  he's  a  green-horn,  a  young 
'un — he  knows  nothing. — Furthermore,  there  is  an 
ecstasy  to  come  he  has'nt  dreamt  of;  a  fifteen-pound- 
boy-baby  is  well  enough,  it's  «  wheels  and  its  pulleys, 
its  pumps  and  its  valves,  its  engines  and  reservoirs,  its 
beautiful  machinery,"  &c.,  all  well  enough,  but  wait 
'till  it  speaks!  wait  'till  it  says  "cow!"  that's  the 
phrensy !  Wait,until  conjjnced  by  its  blessed  mother's 
incessant  instructions,  at  the  window,  that  a  cow,  a 
«moo-ly  cow,"  is  the  most  interesting  object  in  nature, 
it  dances  in  its  daddy's  arms,  points  with  its  little 
finger  to  a  pig  in  the  gutter,  and  says  «cow-w!"  a 
whole  room  full  of  admiring  friends  and  neighbours 
ready  to  devour  it — not  the  pig,  but  the  little  dear,  «so 
forward !" 
Hark!  a  band  of  music — louder — a  company  of 


166  PATERNAL    GUSHINGS. 

• 

soldiers  in  the  next  street;  ma  and  company  rise,  up. 
go  the  windows,  in  rush  the  children — drum  and  trum 
pet — every  head  out — coming  round  corner — "  shadows 
before  " — a  swarm  of  little  boys  with  paper  caps  and 
clam  shells — Hooray!  there's  the  captain — epaulets 
and  feather — walking  backward — sword  extended- 
word  of  command — «  Left  wheel !"  at  same  instant — 
heel  in  hole — down  goes  captain — scream  of  delight — 
line  breaks,  and  "  cow — cow,"  cries  the  blessed  child, 
half  crazy! 

But  it  has  «  stood  alone"  before  this,  and  had  "  a 
tooth"  before  that,  and  been  "  very  large  for  its  age" 
before  either ;  and  we,  having  lived  through  the  whole, 
and  being  proud  of  our  experience,  we  tell  the  Knicker 
bocker  man  again  and  again,  that  he  knows  nothing, 
that  he  makes  himself  ridiculous,  that  he's  a  bigger 
boy  than  his  « fifteen  pounder"  to  go  on  so,  and  every 
parent  who  has  reared  «  a  fine  child"  to  cut  teeth  and 
say  «  cow,"  will  agree  with  us.  At  the  same  time,  as 
some  excuse,  it's  a  «  first ;"  as  a  further  excuse,  he 
showed  some  sense  in  getting  married  ;  and  as,  perhaps, 
a  total  excuse,  he  really  has  managed  to  become  a 
father ;  and,  we  advise  our  young  friends,  in  each  re 
spect,  to  emulate  his  example. 

By-the-by,  here  is  something — a 'pro  pos  to  the 
subject.  * 


A  WERRY  GRAVE  EXHORTATION. 

You  hasn't  yet  got  married,  Knick, 
You  doesn't  know  the  sweets, 

The  little  soothin'  solaces 
As  we  wot's  married  meets ; 


PATERNAL    GUSHINGS. 

The  bosom's  warm  emotions,  and 

The  drops  within  the  eyes, 
The  nice  clean  shirts  and  stockings,  and 

All  them  ;ere  tender  ties ! 

You  don't  know  what  it  is,  Knick, 
A-lyin'  in  your  bed, 

To  gaze  on  careful  woman's  form- 
While  the  breakfast  things  is  spread ; 

When  you  don't  want  to  get  up,  cos 
The  kiver  feels  so  nice  ; 

And  she  says,  «  Won't  you  have  another  cup, 
And  this  'ere  other  slice  ?" 

.   The  fire  a-burnin'  bright,  Knick, 

And  all  upon  a  chair, 
Your  linen,  and  your  draw'rs,  Knick, 

A-hangin'  up  to  air ; 
I  axes  ev'ry  heart,  Knick, 

As  isn't  made  of  steel, 
If  one  can  look  upon  that  fire 

And  not  a  warmin'  feel ! 

Oh,  werry  few,  indeed,  Knick, 

Knows  when  they're  truly  happy,— 
When  the  baby  is  fetched  in,  Knick, 

To  kiss  it's  « lazj*-*pappy ;" 
«  You  ittle  di^piny  ting, 

It's  mammy  turn  and  eat  her ; 
You  bessed  babe  it  was  so  tweet 

It  tood'nt  be  no  tweeter! 

"You  dod-a-bessed  angel  you — 

Don't  pull  it's  pappy's  hair ; 
Take  fingers  out  of  pappy's  cup— 

Don't  cry — it  shall  den — there ; 


}68  PATERNAL  GUSHINGS. 

Oh,  fie,  to  spill  all  pappy 's  tea — 
You  naughty  ducky  diny ; 

You  oney,  doney,  roguey,  poguey, 
Sweetest,  sugar  shiney !" 

Oh,  Knick,  there  is  some  mi  nits  when 

The  stoutest  hearts  '11  quiver ; 
Just  let  a  baby  spill  your  tea, 

While  you're  beneath  the  kiver ; 
One  little  hand  within  your  hair, 

The  other  in  your  cup— 
Don't  wonder  we  so  often  feels 

As  we  could  "eat  'em  up!" 


!'YOUR  TURN  NEXT,  SIR." 


THE  principle  of  « rotation"  should  never  be  lost 
sight  of  in  a  democracy — never,  above  all,  in  a  barber's 
shop !  «  Order  is  Heaven's  first  law,"  and  "Louis's" 
also,  as  the  many  shavers,  who  patronize  that  attentive 
functionary  at  his  establishment,  the  Italian  Baths,  St. 
Louis,  are  well  aware  of. 

Let  the  reader  be  kind  enough  to  consider  himself 
an  anxious  gentleman  with  a  « two-day's  beard"  on, 
seated  at  9£  A.  M.,  on  one  of  Louis's  sofas ;  his  coat 
off,  his  neck  exposed,  and  evincing  other  symptoms  of 
impatient  readiness  to  place  himself  in  the  first  chair 
vacant.  There  they  are,  some  six  or  eight  of  them, 
reclining  almost  horizontally,  as  their  lazy  heels  are 
elevated,  on  luxuriously  stuffed  mahogany  stools, 
nearly  to  the  level  of  their  drowsy  heads.  See  how 
the  rascals  enjoy  it !  There  is  one  fellow  now,  with 
his  plaguy  bright  boots,  grunting  with  satisfaction 
under  the  champooing  operation  ;  his  eyes  closed,  and 
his  head  wagging,  as  the  brisk  fingers  of  the  professor 
make  themselves  acquainted  with  the  topography  of  his 
cranium — it'll  be  sixty  •  minutes  at  least  before  he's 
done  !  There's  another !  his  chaps  lathered  until  they 
look  like  a  prize  specimen  of  frosted  confectionary ; 
and  yet  the  operator,  as  if  pleased  with  the  snowy 
15  169 


170  YOUB  TURN   NEXT,   SIR. 

beauty  of  his  art,  is  adding  fresh  dabs — so  they  fondly 
pet  a  pat  of  butter !  Will  none  of  them  budge  ?  Look 
at  that  character  getting  his  hair  cut ;  he  has  evidently 
no  faith  in  his  tonsor  ;  he  knows  he  is  in  a  "  latest  cut" 
establishment,  but  hair  is  his  weakness!  See  how 
anxiously  he  consults  his  hand-gjass;  a  miss-clip  on 
that  side-lock  would  ruin  him  !  That  man  has  distinct 
visions  of  the  mode  in  Broadway  and  Chestnut  street, 
and  a  downright  suspicion,  if  not  a  positive  contempt, 
is  vexing  his  mind  during  this  fateful  amputation  ! — 
curse  that  fellow,  he'll  take  a  week ! 

Look  at  that  plethoric  monster,  and  wonder  why,  as 
the  razor  glides  over  his  florid  folds,  you  can  think  of 
nothing  but  a  green  turtle  !  He's  jocose,  too  ;  and,  as 
he  makes  his  ebony  attendant  grin,  see  how  he  lifts 
the  corner  of  bis  eye  to  watch  the  effect  on  his  neigh 
bor.  Thank  the  stars — no  you  don't !  «  Your  turn 
next,  sir  /"  and  a  cool,  consummate,  quiet  customer, 
who  has  been  reading  the  paper  unnoticed  at  your 
elbow,  rises  deliberately,  unties  his  cravat,  takes  off  his 
coat,  and  you  are  led  to  inquire,  mentally,  if  it  is  his 
turn  next,  how  many  more  may  be  before  you  ?  Hor 
rible  suggestion !  There  are,  actually,  a  dozen  loiter 
ers  with  beards  or* !  How  many  of  them  have  entered 
after  you,  a  mere  matter  of  guess-work  to  all  save  the 
omniscient  oracle  of  «  Your  turn  next,  sir  /"  Another 
rises.  "Four  turn  next,  sir!"  not  your  turn,  reader; 
take  it  patiently. 

Did  any  Christian  ever  see  such  an  abomination  as 
is  practised  upon  the  human  countenance  in  this  same 
city  of  St.  Louis  ?  Look  at  that  apparently  magnetized 
bust,  the  brows,  cheeks,  and  neck,  appertaining  to 
"which  are  at  this  moment  being  smeared  over  from 


«'  Your  turn  next,  sir." 

«  Ah,  iin't  such  a  chair  a  comfort!" 


171 

the  lather-cup — back  and  front,  preparatory  to  a  scrub 
— as  if  the  possibility  of  a  gentleman  extending  his 
own  ablutions  round  the  base  of  his  skull  were  a  stretch 
of  cleanliness  not  to  be  thought  of!  Dab — dab — dab 
— d-d-d-dab  !  Isn't  he  a  pretty  looking  object  ?  Ah, 
there  goes  the  sponge ! — over  his  brow — back  of  his 
neck — washing  himself  will  never  trouble  his  thoughts 
after  this,  certainly ! 

"  Your  turn  next,  sir  /"  May  all  one  of  the 
punishments  in  the  Swedenborgian  next  world,  indu 
bitably,  will  be  waiting  in  a  barber's  shop  for  « your 
turn  next !"  Dr.  Bush  must  speak  to  this  point  forth 
with.  There's  a  pug-nosed  villain  been  under  the  soap 
for  seventy-five  minutes  by  the  church-bells,  and  now, 
confound  him,  he  "  feels  so  good "  that  he's  getting 
his  hair  cut!  "  Your  turn  next,  sir!"  Go  to  the 

eh !  what !  not  my  turn  ?   «  YOUR  turn  next,  sir!" 

I  am  (meaning  you  are,  reader,)  mollified  !  Under  the 
hands  of  Louis  himself,  too !  Civil  Louis !  Good- 
looking  Louis !  Louis  that'll  be  a  prince  one  of  these 
days,  and  go  to  Paris  I  Ah,  isn't  such  a  chair  a  com 
fort  ?  Run  your  eye  along  your  leg,  and  sec  what  that 
is — agitating  your  toes  so  ! — a  fluttering  juvenile,  dust 
ing  the  tips  of  your  boots !  Ah,  the  first  tap  of  the 
brush — agreeable  temperature  !  Now  it  glides  over 
your  jaws,  and  you  wouldn't  change  for  a  warm  bath! 
The  steel — not  a  scrape,  reader,  but  a  touch,  as  if  your 
cheek  were  swept  by  a  butterfly's  wing !  Exquisite 
Louis!  If  you  would  subdue  your  enemy,  put  him 
into  a  soft  chair  and  shave  him!  How  the  strings 
about  your  heart  relax !  No  more  straining  and 
tightening  ;  thoughts  of  ease — ideas  of  charity — they 
come  and  go,  and  now  you  are  on  the  confines  of 


172  YOUR  TUBN  NEXT,   SIB. 

dream-land  ! — softer — softer — murmuring — music 

Hallo !  actually  took  a  nap !  What  the  deuce  are  you 
about,  back  of  one's  neck?  Lather?  Well,  «  go 
it!"  Wouldn't  get  up  for  the  world  !  So — squeeze 
your  sponge  a  little,  though,  there's  a  drop  down  one's 
back.  Ah,  a  Cologne  wipe,  delightful!  and  now  fora 
champoo — never  mind  those  fellows  waiting  ! 

"And,  as  his  Hying  fingers  touch  the  keys"— 

There  he  is  now,  playing  away  on  your  benevolence ; 
now,  ideality,  a  scratch — exquisite  ! — Hope,  music 

— murmurs — dream-land  again !  Hallo — towel 

jerked  away!  "Four  turn  next,  sir  /"  Remorseless 
Louis!  actually  dismissed — despatched — turned  out! 
nothing  but  a  job  after  all !  Patience,  however,  and 
take  a  peep  in  the  glass.  There  are  jaws  of  velvet  and 
locks  of  silk  !  Sir,  you've  been  under  the  hands  of  an 
artiste !  Any  one  may  see  Italian  Baths  written  in 
your  face  ;  scent  Ireddl  fy  Glamorgan  in  your  perfumed 
path !  On  with  your  coat ;  your  well-smoothed  hat ; 
take  your  stick ;  a  parting  glance  ;  greet  the  sunlight 
: — damme,  you're  a  nosegay  ! 

Your  turn  next,  sir  ! 


STOPPING  TO  "WOOD.1 


IN  spite  of  the  magic  changes  which  have  been 
wrought  in  the  "way  of  doing  things"  upon  the 
western  waters,  the  primitive  mode  of  "wooding" 
from  the  bank  remains  unaltered — as  a  sort  of  vaga 
bond  Indian  in  the  midst  of  a  settlement — as  the  gal 
lows  does  in  the  light  of  civilization.  The  same  rude 
plank  is  "  shoved"  ashore,  the  same  string  of  black 
and  white  straggle  through  the  mud  to  the  "  pile,"  the 
same  weary  waste  of  time  exists  as  was  the  case  twenty 
years  ago.  Steamers  have  grown  from  pigmies  to 
giants,  speed  has  increased  from  a  struggle  to  a  "rush," 
yet  the  conception  of  a  ready  loaded  truck,  or  a  burden- 
swinging  crane — despatching  a  "cord"  for  every 
shoulder  load,  appears  not  to  have  entered  the  head  of 
either  wood  dealer  or  captain. 

At  the  same  time,  though  the  present  mode  is  to  be 
condemned  as  «  behind  the  time ;"  as  tedious,  slovenly, 
and  unnecessary,  there  are  occasions  when  "  stopping 
to  wood"  is  an  event  of  positive  interest  and  excite 
ment.  Passed  over  be  the  fine  sun-shiney  morning 
when,  jogging  along — nothing  behind — nothing  before, 
the  passengers  lounging  about — heels  up,  or  heads 
down — the  unnoticed  bell  gives  the  signal  for  "wood," 
and  the  boat  draws  listlessly  alongside  of  the  "pile." 
Equally  unregarded  be  the  rainy  day,  when,  mud  to  the 
knees  and  drenched  to  the  skin,  the  steaming  throng, 
15*  173 


174  STOPPING  TO  «  WOOD.3 


and  plashing,  drop  their  backloads,  with  a 
"  whew  /"  and  fail  to  find,  even  in  the  whisky  barrel,  a 
laugh  or  a  <<  break  down."  But  not  so  the  star-lit  even 
ing  in  June,  when,  the  water  at  a  «  good  stage,"  and 
out  for  a  «  brag  trip,"  with  a  rival  boat  behind,  and 
the  furnaces  roaring  for  "  more"  the  more  they  are  fed, 
the  signal  is  given  and  a  faint  flicker  on  the  distant 
bank  beacons  the  hungry  monster  towards  its  further 
supply  of  fuel.  From  New  Orleans  thus  far  on  the  trip 
up,  the  two  boats,  of  nearly  equal  speed,  have  alter 
nately  passed  each  other  during  the  stop  to  «  wood," 
showing  no  gain  of  consequence  on  the  part  of  either, 
and  the  grand  struggle  has  been  as  it  at  present  is,  to 
«  rush"  the  operation  so  as  to  get  a  start  before  being 
overtaken.  The  bank  is  reached — the  boat  made  fast — 
gangways  are  formed — «  Lively !  men,  lively!"  cries  the 
mate,  and  while  the  upper  cabins  pour  out  their  crowds 
upon  the  boiler  deck,  the  «  hands,"  and  the  swarms  of 
wild-looking  passengers  below  (obliged  by  contract) 
dash  ashore  among  the  brush.  Now  ensues  a  scene 
that  tasks  description !  The  fire,  augmented  by  piles 
of  the  driest  wood,  crimsons  the  tangled  forest !  Black 
and  white,  many  of  them  stripped  to  their  waist,  though 
others,  more  careful,  protect  their  skins  by  ripping  and 
forming  cowls  of  empty  salt  sacks,  attack  the  lengthened 
pile,  and  amid  laugh,  shout,  curse,  and  the  scarcely  in 
termitting  scream  of  the  iron  chimneys,  (tortured  by  the 
still  making  steam,)  remove  it  to  the  boat. 

"Lively,  men,  lively!"  rings  the  cry,  and  lively, 
lively  is  the  impulse  inspired  by  it !  See  that  swart, 
gigantic  negro,  his  huge  shoulder  hidden  beneath  a 
pyramid  of  wood,  hurl  to  the  deck  bis  load,  cut  a 
caper  along  the  plank,  and,  leaping  back,  seize  a  flam- 


STOPPING  TO  «  WOOD."  175 

ing  bruid  to  whirl  it  round  his  head  in  downright  en 
joyment!  "Lively!  lively!"  Laugh,  shout,  whoop, 
and  the  pile  is  rapidly  disappearing,  when  a  cry  is  heard 
from  the  «  hurricane  deck" — 

«  Here  she  comes,  round  the  point !" 

'Tis  the  rival  steamer,  sure  enough  ;  and  once  more 
she  will  pass  during  this  detention.  Now  dash  both 
mate  and  captain  ashore  to  <<  rush"  the  matter.  The 
bell  is  struck  for  starting,  as  if  to  compel  impossibility ; 
the  accumulated  steam  is  let  ofl'  in  brief,  impatient 
screams,  and  the  passengers,  sharing  the  wild  excite 
ment,  add  their  cries. 

«  Passed  again,  by  thunder!"  "We've  got  enough 
wood!"  "  Leave  the  rest!"  &c.  In  the  mean  time, 
round  the  point  below,  sweeps  the  up-comer — all  lights 
and  sparks — moving  over  the  water  like  a  rushing  fire- 
palace  !  Now  her  "  blow"  is  heard,  like  a  suppressed 
curse  of  struggle  and  defiance,  and  now,  nearing  the 
bank  where  lies  her  rival,  a  sort  of  frenzy  seizes  on  the 
latter— 

"Tumble  it  in!"  "Rush  her!"  «D— n  the  rest!" 
"  You've  got  enough !"  Ra-a-a-s-h  !  goes  the  steam  ; 
the  engine,  "  working  off,"  thunders  below ; — again, 
the  bell  rings,  and  the  hurly  burly  on  shore  is  almost 
savage.  At  length,  as  the  coming  boa!;  is  hard  on 
astern,  the  signal  tap  is  given,  «  all  hands  aboard!" 
The  lines  are  let  go,  the  planks  are  shoved  in  by  the 
negroes  who  are  themselves  drawn  from  the  water  with 
them,  and  amid  a  chaos  of  timber,  a  whirl  of  steam, 
and  a  crash  of  machinery,  once  more  she  is  undef 
weigh.  The  struggle  is  to  leave  the  bank  before  she 
can  be  passed,  and  fuel,  flame,  arid  phrensy,  seem 
ingly  unite  to  secure  the  object ;  barrels  of  combusti- 


176  STOPPING   TO   "WOOD." 

bles  are  thrust  into  the  furnaces,  while,  before  the 
doors,  the  <<  firemen,"  naked  and  screaming,  urge 
their  wild  efforts! 

"Here  she  is,  along-side!"  and  now  the  struggle 
indeed  is  startling ;  the  one  endeavouring  to  shoot  out 
from  the  bank  across  the  bows  of  the  other,  and  she, 
authorized  by  river  custom,  holding  her  way,  the  con 
sequences  of  collision  resting  alone  on  her  imprudent 
competitor.  Roar  for  roar — scream  for  scream — huzza 
for  huzza — but  now,  the  inner  boat  apparently  gaining, 
a  turn  of  her  antagonist's  wheel  leaves  her  no  option 
but  to  be  run  into  or  turn  again  towards  the  bank !  A 
hundred  oaths  and  screams  reply  to  this  manoeuvre, 
but  on  she  comes — on,  on, — a  moment  more  and  she 
strikes !  With  a  shout  of  rage  the  defeated  pilot  turns 
her  head — at  the  same  moment  snatching  down  his 
rifle  and  discharging  it  into  the  pilot-house  of  his  op 
ponent  !  Fury  has  now  seized  the  thoughts  of  all,  and 
the  iron  throats  of  the  steamers  are  less  hidous  than 
the  human  ones  beneath  them.  The  wheel  for  a  mo 
ment  neglected,  the  thwarted  monster  has  now  « taken 
a  sheer  in  the  wild  current,"  and,  beyond  the  possi 
bility  of  prevention,  is  driving  on  to  the  bank !  A  cry 
of  terror  rises  aloft — the  throng  rush  aft — the  steam, 
every  valve  set  free — makes  the  whole  forest  shiver, 
and,  amid  the  fright,  the  tall  chimneys,  caught  by  the 
giant  trees,  are  wrenched  and  torn  out  like  tusks  from 
a  recoiling  mastadon. 

«  That's  a  stretcher,"  will  cry  out  some  readers,  and 
such  a  scene  is  not  likely  to  be  witnessed  now,  but  the 
writer  will  not  soon  forget  that  such  he  bore  a  part  in, 
some  ten  years  ago,  and  that  the  captain,  when  asked 
what  he  thought  of  it,  replied,  «  Well,  I  think  we've 
got  h — 11,  any  how !" 


DEATH  OF  MIKE  FINK. 


«  THE  Last  of  the  Boatmen"  has  not  become  alto* 
gether  a  mythic  personage.  There  be  around  us  those 
who  still  remember  him  as  one  of  flesh  and  blood,  as 
well  of  proportions  simply  human,  albeit  he  lacked  not 
somewhat  of  the  heroic  in  stature,  as  well  as  in  being  a 
«  perfect  terror"  to  people ! 

As  regards  Mike,  it  has  not  yet  become  that  favourite 
question  of  doubt — "  Did  such  a  being  really  live  ?" 
Nor  have  we  heard  the  skeptic  inquiry — "  Did  such  a 
being  really  die  ?"  But  his  death  in  half  a  dozen  dif 
ferent  ways  and  places  has  been  asserted,  and  this,  we 
take  it,  is  the  first  gathering  of  the  mythic  haze — that 
shadowy  and  indistinct  enlargement  of  outline,  which, 
deepening  through  long  ages,  invests  distinguished 
mortality  with  the  sublimer  attributes  of  the  hero  and 
the  demi-god.  Had  Mike  lived  in  «  early  Greece," 
his  flat-boat  feats  would,  doubtless,  in  poetry,  have 
rivalled  those  of  Jason,  in  his  ship  ;  while  in  Scandi 
navian  legends,  he  would  have  been  a  river-god,  to  a 
certainty!  The  Sea-kings  would  have  sacrificed  to 
him  every  time  they  "  crossed  the  bar,"  on  their  re 
turn  ;  and  as  for  Odin,  himself,  he  would  be  duly  ad 
vised,  as  far  as  any  interference  went,  to  « lay  low  and 
keep  dark,  or,  ^re-haps,"  &c. 

177 


• 
•  178  DEATH  OP  MIKE  FINK. 

The  story  of  Mike  Fink,  including  a  death,  has  been 
••  beautifully  told  by  the  late  Morgan  Neville,  of  Cincin 
nati,  a  gentleman  of  the  highest  literary  taste,  is  well  as 
of  the  most  amiable  and  polished  manners.  «  The  Last 
of  the  Boatmen,"  as  his  sketch  is  entitled,  is  unexcep 
tionable  in  style,  and,  we  believe,  in  fact)  with  one 
exception,  and  that  is,  the  statement  as  to  the  manner 
and  place  of  Fink's  death.  He  did  not  die  on  the 
Arkansas,  but  at  Fort  Henry,  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Yellow  Stone.  Our  informant  is  Mr.  Chas.  Keerale  of 
this  paper,*  who  held  a  command  in  the  neighbour 
hood,  at  the  time,  and  to  whom  every  circumstance 
connected  with  the  affair  is  most  familiar.  We  give 
the  story  as  it  is  told  by  himself. 

In  the  year  1822,  steamboats  having  left  the  "  keels" 
and  «  broad-horns"  entirely  "  cue  of  sight,"  and  Mike 
having,  in  consequence,  fallen  from  his  high  estate — 
that  of  being  "  a  little  bit  the  almightiest  man  on  the 
river,  any  how" — after  a  term  of  idleness,  frolic  and 
desperate  rowdyism,  along  the  different  towns,  he,  at 
St.  Louis,  entered  the  service  of  the  Mountain  Fur 
Company,  raised  by  our  late  fellow-citizen  Gen.  W.  H. 
Ashley,  as  a  trapper  and  hunter ;  and  in  that  capacity 
was  he  employed  by  Major  Henry,  in  command  of  the 
Fort  at  the  mouth  of  Yellow  Stone  river,  when  the  oc 
currence  took  place  of  which  we  write. 

Mike,  with  many  generous  qualities,  was  always  a 
reckless  dare-devil ;  but,  at  this  time,  advancing  in 
years  and  decayed  in  influence,  above  all  become  a 
victim  of  whisky,  he  was  morose  and  desperate  in  the 
extreme.  There  was  a  government  regulation  which 


St.  Louis  Reveille. 


DEATH  OF  MIKE  FINK.  179 

forbade  the  free  use  of  alcohol  at  the  trading  posts  on 
the  Missouri  river,  and  this  was  a  continual  source  of 
quarrel  between  the  men  and  the  commandant,  Major 
Henry, — on  the  part  of  Fink,  particularly.  One  of  his 
freaks  was  to  march  with  his  rifle  into  the  fort,  and 
demand  a  supply  of  spirits.  Argument  was  fruitless, 
force  not  to  be  thought  of,  and  when,  on  being  posi 
tively  denied,  Mike  drew  up  his  rifle  and  sent  a  ball 
through  the  cask,  deliberately  walked  up  and  filled  his 
can,  while  his  particular  "  boys"  followed  his  example, 
all  that  could  be  done  was  to  look  upon  the  matter  as 
one  of  his  «  queer  ways,"  and  that  was  the  end  of  it. 

This  state  of  things  continued  for  some  time;  Mike's 
temper  and  exactions  growing  more  unbearable  every 
day,  until,  finally,  a  "split"  took  place,  not  only  be 
tween  himself  and  the  commandant,  but  many  others 
in  the  fort,  and  the  unruly  boatman  swore  he  would 
not  live  among  them.  Followed  only  by  a  youth 
named  Carpenter,  whom  he  had  brought  up,  and  for 
whom  he  felt  a  rude  but  strong  attachment,  he  prepared 
a  sort  of  cave  in  the  river's  bank,  furnished  it  with  a 
supply  of  whisky,  and,  with  his  companion,  turned  in 
to  pass  the  winter,  which  was  then  closing  upon  them. 
In  this  place  he  buried  himself,  sometimes  unseen  for 
weeks,  his  protege  providing  what  else  was  necessary 
beyond  the  whisky.  At  length  attempts  were  used,  on 
the  part  of  those  in  the  fort,  to  withdraw  Carpenter 
from  Fink ;  foul  insinuations  were  made  as  to  the 
nature  of  their  connection ;  the  youth  was  twitted  with 
being  a  mere  slave,  &c.,  all  which  (Fink  heard  of  it 
in  spite  of  his  retirement)  served  to  breed  distrust  be 
tween  the  two,  and  though  they  did  not  separate,  much 
of  their  cordiality  ceased. 


180  DEATH   OF  MIKE   FINK. 

The  winter  wore  away  in  this  sullen  state  of  torpor ; 
spring  came  with  its  reviving  influences,  and  to  cele 
brate  the  season,  a  supply  cf  alcohol  was  procured, 
and  a  number  of  his  acquaintances  from  the  fort  com 
ing  to  «  rouse  out"  Mike,  a  desperate  « frolic,"  of 
course,  ensued. 

There  were  river  yarns,  and  boatmen  songs,  and 
« nigger  break-downs,"  interspersed  with  wrestling- 
matches,  jumping,  laugh,  and  yell,  the  can  circulating 
freely,  until  Mike  became  somewhat  mollified. 

«I  tell  you  what  it  is,  boys,"  he  cried,  "the  fort's 
a  skunk-hole,  and  I  rather  live  with  the  bars  than  stay 
in  it.  Some  on  ye's  bin  trying  to  part  me  and  my 
boy,  that  I  love  like  my  own  cub — but  no  matter. 
Maybe  he's  pisoned  against  me ;  but,  Carpenter,  (strik 
ing  the  youth  heavily  on  the  shoulder,)  I  took  you  by 
the  hand  when  it  had  forgotten  the  touch  of  a  father's 
or  a  mother's — you  know  me  to  be  a  man,  and  you 
ain't  a  going  to  turn  out  a  dog!" 

Whether  it  was  that  the  youth  fancied  something  in 
sulting  in  the  manner  of  the  appeal,  or  not,  we  can't  say ; 
but  it  was  not  responded  to  very  warmly,  and  a  reproach 
followed  from  Mike.  However,  they  drank  together, 
and  the  frolic  went  on,  until  Mike,  filling  his  can, 
walked  off  some  forty  yards,  placed  it  upon  his  head, 
and  called  to  Carpenter  to  take  his  rifle. 

This  wild  teat  of  shooting  cans  off  each  other's  head 
was  a  favourite  one  with  Mike — himself  and  "boy" 
generally  winding  up  a  hard  frolic  with  this  savage, 
but  deeply-meaning  proof  of  continued  confidence; — 
as  for  risk,  their  eagle  eyes  and  iron  nerves  defied  the 
might  of  whisky.  After  their  recent  alienation,  a  doubly 


DEATH   OF  MIKE   FINK.  181 

generous  impulse,  without  doubt,  had  induced  Fink  to 
propose  and  subject  himself  to  the  test. 

Carpenter  had  been  drinking  wildly,  and  with  a 
boisterous  laugh  snatched  up  his  rifle.  All  present  had 
seen  the  parties  »<  shoot,"  and  this  desperate  aim,  instead 
of  alarming,  was  merely  made  a  matter  of  wild  jest. 

"  Your  grog  is  spilt,  for  ever,  Mike !" 

"  Kill  the  old  varmint,  young  'un !" 

«  What'll  his  skin  bring  in  St.  Louis  ?"  &c.  &c. 

Amid  a  loud  laugh,  Carpenter  raised  his  piece — even 
the  jesters  remarked  that  he  was  unsteady, — crack !" 
— the  can  fellj — a  loud  shout, — but,  instead  of  a  smile 
of  pleasure,  a  dark  frown  settled  upon  the  face  of  Fink! 
He  made  no  motion  except  to  clutch  his  rifle  as  though 
he  would  have  crushed  it,  and  there  he  stood,  gazing 
at  the  youth  strangely!  Various  shades  of  passion 
crossed  his  features — surprise,  rage,  suspicion — but  at 
length  they  composed  themselves  into  a  sad  expres 
sion  ;  the  ball  had  grazed  the  top  of  his  head,  cutting 
the  scalp,  and  the  thought  of  treachery  had  set  his  heart 
on  fire. 

There  was  a  loud  call  upon  Mike  to  know  what  he 
was  waiting  for,  in  which  Carpenter  joined,  pointing  to 
the  can  upon  his  head  and  bidding  him  fire,  if  he  knew 
how! 

"Carpenter,  my  son,"  said  the  boatman,  "I  taught 
you  to  shoot  differently  from  that  last  shot!  You've 
missed  once,  but  you  won't  again !" 

He  fired,  and  his  ball,  crashing  through  the  forehead 
of  the  youth,  laid  him  a  corpse  amid  his,  as  suddenly 
hushed,  companions ! 

Time  wore  on — many  at  the  fort  spoke  darkly  of 
the  deed.  Mike  Fink  had  never  been  known  to  miss 

16 


182  DEATH  OF  MIKE   FINK. 

his  aim — he  had  grown  afraid  of  Carpenter — he.  had 
murdered  him!  While  this  feeling  was  gathering 
against  him,  the  unhappy  boatman  lay  in  his  cave, 
shunning  both  sympathy  and  sustenance.  He  spoke 
to  none — when  he  did  come  forth,  'twas  as  a  spectre, 
and  only  to  haunt  the  grave  of  his  "  boy,"  or,  if  he  did 
break  silence,  'twas  to  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  rage 
against  the  enemies  who  had  "  turned  his  boy's  heart 
from  him !" 

At  the  fort  was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Talbott,  the 
gunsmith  of  the  station :  he  was  very  loud  and  bitter 
in  his  denunciations  of  the  "  murderer,",  as  he  called 
Fink,  which,  finally,  reaching  the  ears  of  the  latter, 
filled  him  with  the  most  violent  passion,  and  he  swore 
that  he  would  take  the  life  of  his  defamer.  This  threat 
was  almost  forgotten,  when  one  day,  Talbott,  who  was 
at  work  in  his  shop,  saw  Fink  enter  the  fort,  his  first 
visit  since  the  death  of  Carpenter.  Fink  approached ; 
he  was  careworn,  sick,  and  wasted ;  there  was  no  anger 
in.  his  bearing,  but  he  carried  his  rifle,  (had  he  ever 
gone  without  it  ?)  and  the  gunsmith  was  not  a  coolly 
brave  man  ;  moreover,  his  life  had  been  threatened. 

"  Fink,"  cried  he,  snatching  up  a  pair  of  pistols 
from  his  bench,  «  don't  approach  me — if  you  do,  you're 
a  dead  man  !" 

«  Talbott,"  said  the  boatman,  in  a  sad  voice,  "  you 
needn't  be  afraid  ;  you've  done  me  wrong — I'm  come 
to  talk  to  you  about — Carpenter — my  boy!" 

He  continued  to  advance,  and  the  gunsmith  again 
called  to  him : 

"  Fink !  I  know  you ;  if  you  come  three  steps  nearer, 
I'll  fire,  by !" 

Mike  carried  his  rifle  across  his  arm,  and  made  no 


DEATH  OF  MIKE  FINK.  183 

hostile  demonstration,  except  in  gradually  getting 
nearer — if  hostile  his  aim  was. 

«  Talbott,  you've  accused  me  of  murdering — my  boy 
— Carpenter — that  I  raised  from  a  child — that  I  loved 
like  a  son — that  I  can't  live  without !  Pm  not  mad 
with  you  now,  but  you  must  let  me  show  you  that  I 
couldn't  do  it— that  I'd  rather  died  than  done  it — that 
you've  wronged  me " 

By  this  time  he  was  within  a  few  steps  of  the  door, 
and  Talbott's  agitation  became  extreme.  Both  pistols 
were  pointed  at  Fink's  breast,  in  expectation  of  a  spring 
from  the  latter. 

"  By  the  Almighty  above  us,  Fink,  III  fire — I  don't 
want  to  speak  to  you  now — don't  put  your  foot  on  that 
step — don't." 

Fink  did  put  his  foot  on  the  step,  and  the  same  mo 
ment  fell  heavily  within  it,  receiving  the  contents  of 
both  barrels  in  his  breast !  His  last  and  only  words 
were, 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  kill  my  boy !" 

Poor  Mike  !  we  are  satisfied  with  our  senior's  con 
viction  that  you  did  not  mean  to  kill  him.  Suspicion 
of  treachery,  doubtless,  entered  his  mind,  but  cowardice 
and  murder  never  dwelt  there. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  event,  Talbott  himself  per 
ished  in  an  attempt  to  cross  the  Missouri  river  in  a 
skiff. 


ESTABLISHING  A  CONNECTION, 

WHEREIN  ANIMAL  MAGNETISM  13  REDUCED  TO  VULGAR  COM 
PREHENSION 


You're  travelling  on  a  steamboat,  say ; 

A  walking,  here  and  there ; 
You'll,  maybe,  meet  a  pretty  face — 

A  certain  witching  air ; 
You'll  see  it  once  or  twice,  and  then 

You'll  say  «  she's  very  pretty !" 
And  then,  perhaps,  you'll  walk  away, 

And,  maybe,  hum  a  ditty. 

Well,  then,  perhaps,  at  dinner  time, 

A  glance  or  two  may  wander 
Towards  the  table's  upper  end, 

Where  she's  a  sitting,  yonder ; 
You'll  find  a  something  'bout  her  mouth, 

And  the  way  she  lifts  her  fork, 
And  cuts  her  meat,  and  moves  her  jaw,  . 

And  her  other  table  work ! 

You  meet  her,  then,  upon  the  "  guard," 
Where,  with  her  friend,  she's  walking, 

Her  arm  round  her  companion's  waist, 
As  gill's  do  when  they're  talking ; 
184 


. 
ESTABLISHING  A   CONNECTION.  185 

You  note  the  sweetest  kind  of  foot- 
That  nameless  girlish  grace— 
And  that  bright  smile  which  makes  you  glow 
To  see  on  a  girl's  face. 

Well,  this  goes  on,  perhaps,  two  days, 

You  keep  a  walking  round, 
And  find  yourself,  when  near  her, 

Very  silent  and  profound  ; 
At  last — Lord !  what  a  thing  it  is ! 

It  runs  you  through  and  through — 
You  raise  your  eyes,  and  catch  her  glance-~ 

A  mfe-glance,  and  at  you  ! 

Of  course  she  drops  her  eyes  at  once, 

And  looks  upon  the  floor — 
And  you  may  watch  her  by  the  hour. 

But  won't  catch  her  any  more  ; 
Yet  somehow,  she  don't  move  away, 

In  which  a  comfort  lies ; 
And  though  you  cannot  see  'em,  yet, 

You  kind  a  feel  her  eyes ! 

• 

• 
Well,  then,  perhaps,  one  of  the  doors 

Is  lined  with  looking-glass, 

In  which,  perhaps,  you  see  her  face, 
As,  loungingly,  you  pass  ; 

You  take  a  peep — you  walk  away— 
And  then  walk  back  again — 

Then  sit  and  look,  as  though  her  face 
You'd  draw  right  out  the  pane ! 

You're  trying  all  the  time  to  look 
A£  unconcerned  as  ever — 
16' 


1S6  ESTABLISHING   A    CONNECTION. 

You  run  your  fingers  through  your  hair- 
Perhaps  to  hum,  endeavour ; 

But  still  you're  peeping  at  her  face, 
And  time  don't  pass  so  dull ; 

When,  suddenly — in  peeping,  whew! 
You  meet  her  eyes  right  fall ! 

Oh  gracious!  where's  your  breath!  you're  gone! 

You  feel  yourself  a  blushing, 
And  wonder  why  so  old  a  hand 

Should  feel  his  blood  a  rushing — 
But  still  you  sit, — and  so  does  she — 

And,  at  once, — without  instructor — 
You  find  a  pane  of  lookin'-glass 

A  very  good  conductor ! 

Well,  so  it  goes — next  morning,  p'r'aps 

You  bow  to  her  at  breakfast — 
And  then  you  fiddle  with  your  fork, 

'Stead  of  swallowing  your  steak  fast ; 
Well,  she  has  no  great  appetite, 

And  what  she  eats  she  minces — 
And  sits  uneasy  in  her  chair, 

As  if  worried  with  the  chinches  ! 

Perhaps  you  venture,  on  the  «  guard," 

To  say  something  'bout  "  the  morning," 
And  she  says,  «  Yes,  sir,"  with  a  smile 

And  blush  her  cheek  adorning ! 
And  then — you  can't  say  any  more— 

And  she  can't  look  up  either — 
And  you  almost  want  to  get  away — 

And  you  don't  want  to  neither ! 


ESTABLISHING  A   CONNECTION.  187 

Well,  now  you're  in  a  state  for  more 

Decisive  operation ; 
Doubt  not  the  process,  but,  at  once, 

Assay — «  manipulation  !" 
Just  touch  her  fingers !  if  she  stands 

And  don't  lift  up  her  head,  "•-  -  -  * 

The  thing  is  out,  as  Crockett  says, 

«  You're  right — and  go  ahead !" 


• 

• 


A  NIGHT  IN  A  SWAMR 


IN  the  December  of  1834,  « putting  out"  from  the 
Capital  of  Georgia,  Milledgeville,  (a  "promising  town," 
but  which  very  few  people  think  it  worth  while  to  re 
mind  of  its  promises,)  might  have  been  seen,  at  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning,  a  long,  lumbering  wagon, 
canvas-topped,  &c.,  a  "basket  horse"  snuffing  the 
breeze  out  of  the  after  end,  and  one  or  two  eccentric- 
looking  individuals,  (exclusive  of  the  driver — an  "  up- 
country  cracker,")  lounging  in  the  forepart,  almost  as 
inertly  as  the  rag  pile  of  "  Miller's  Men"  on  which 
they  were  reclining.  This  was  the  «  baggage- wagon," 
containing  the  movable  portion  of  the  "  scenery,  ma 
chinery,  dresses,  and  decorations"  of  Mr.  Sol  Smith's 
theatrical  company,  then  in  the  act  of  invading  the 
state  of  Alabama  on  a  winter  campaign,  and  with  the 
purpose  of  attacking  the  town  of  Montgomery,  in  par 
ticular.  Immediately  after  breakfast,  on  the  same 
morning,  two  or  three  "  travelling  carriages,"  not  over 
ostentatious  in  their  appearance,  set  out,  on  the  same 
road,  containing  Manager  Sol  and  the  rest  of  the  com 
pany.  It  was  about  the  commencement  of  bad  wea 
ther  ;  the  streams  were  rising ;  I  remember  distinctly 
that  it  was  a  pretty  general  drench  across  the  two  states, 
but  it  is  my  intention  only  to  mention  one  or  two  watery 
passages  connected  with  the  journey. 
188 


A  NIGHT  IN  A  SWAMP.  189 

Not  a  great  way  from  the  Alabama  line,  in  Georgia, 
on  the  high  road  to  Columbus — that  is,  if  it  continues 
to  be  a  high  road  in  these  times  of  topographical  muta 
tion — is  a  watercourse  called  Bull  Creek ;  the  whole 
route  had  been  rendered  difficult  by  the  heavy  rains, 
and  now,  Bull  Creek  lay  in  the  way,  swelling  and  roar 
ing  and  endeavouring  to  deserve  its  name,  by  behav 
ing  in  as  bull-headed  a  manner  as  possible.  Old  Sol's 
private  carriage  was,  literally,  a  family  coach,  his  whole 
family  (a  small  one  at  that  time,  though)  being  con 
tained  in  it,  to  say  nothing  of  the  writer,  who  sat  on  the 
front  seat,  wondering  what  was  to  "be  done  with  him 
next."  Of  course  there  was  a  dead  stop  at  the  formi 
dable-looking  ford ;  the  negro-driver  «  didn't  like  dat 
water,  no  how ;"  till  manager  «  Sol,"  who  had  often 
crossed  before,  cast  the  black  boy  for  another  part,  that 
of  the  footman,  assumed  the  responsible  character  of 
coachman  himself,  and  boldly  determined  that  he  would 
go  through  with  it.  In  he  went — in — deeper — now, 
glancing  from  the  coach  window,  we  caught  a  full 
view  of  the  stream,  with  its  impetuous  rush  in  the 
middle. 

«  Solomon!"  said  a  mild  voice,  « won't  it  be  dan 
gerous  ?" 

"  Sol !"  cried  a  more  reckless  one,  "  can  you  go  it, 
old  fellow?" 

"  Hallo !  daddy,"  screamed  one  of  the  boys,  «  here's 
the  water  coming  through!" 

"  It's  only  deep  for  a  few  yards,"  said  Sol,  pushing 
onward,  when,  in  an  instant,  the  body  of  the  coach 
was  inundated,  and,  from  its  loose  motion,  it  was  evi 
dent  that  we  were  afloat !  Sol  whipped  up  like  mad, 
as  the  vehicle  swung  round ;  the  horses  snorted  and 


190  .A    NIGHT    IN    A   SWAMP. 

struggled,  the  boys  screamed  and  gathered  themselves 
on  to  the  seats,  the  mother  grew  mute  and  pale,  their 
fellow-traveller  contemplated  a  spring  through  the  win 
dow—one  intense  moment,  when  the  horses  felt  ground 
—hurrah!  whip,  shout,  struggle — and  the  drenched 
coach,  staggering  and  shivering,  seemingly,  was  drag 
ged  up  the  opposite  slope ! 

" There,"  says  Sol,  "you  stupid  nigger,  couldn't 
you  do  that?" 

The  driver  resumed  his  seat  with  an  expressive 
«\Vhew!" 

« Well,"  muttered  he,  « I  never  did  tink  Ole  Sol 
done  fotch  himself  clar,  dat  time  !" 

Three  or  four  days,  over  corduroy  roads,  in  the 
«  Creek  Nation,"  Alabama,  had  not  served  to  shake 
Bull  Creek  from  remembrance,  when  a  homeless  throng 
of  about  two  thousand  persons,  camped  in  every  shape 
and  direction,  —  travellers,  movers,  negroes,  &c., 
warned  us  that  we  had  reached  Kalebah  Hatchee, — the 
drain  of  an  immense  swamp,  now  flooded, — and  that 
the  rude  bridge,  &c.,  had  been  swept  away.  It  was 
evening  when  we  arrived.  The  one  house  of  enter 
tainment  swarmed  like  a  bee-hive,  while  the  borders  of 
the  swamp  were  hardly  less  populous. 
•  "Not  a  bit  of  room,  inside"  cried  the  landlord,  as 
we  drove  up. 

«  Thank  you,"  said  Sol,  "Knew  you  would.    Jump 
out  ladies." 

«  Not  a  bit  of  room,  I  say,"  repeated  the  landlord. 

"  Of  course  a  bit  will  do ;  there's  only  three,  and  they 
can  all  go  together,  when  there's  a  crowd !" 
"  But  I  say,  there's  no  use  of  coming  in  /" 
"  They're  coming  in,  thank  you,"  blandly  persevered 


A  NIGHT  IN  A  SWAMP.  191 

the  manager,  with  his  hand  to  his  ear,  as  if  partially 
deaf; — and  actually  pushing  by  the  man,  with  the  ladies 
under  his  wing,  he  made  his  way  into  a  back  room  of 
the  log  tenement-— one  which  served  alike  for  kitchen 
and  eating-hall — placed  the  shivering  females  at  the 
fire,  and  forthwith  began  doing  the  agreeable  to  the 
cook  and  hostess. 

Following  the  example  of  their  manager,  in  being  a 
little  deaf,  and  a  little  blind,  and  a  good  deal  civil, 
some  half  a  dozen  of  the  party  managed  not  only  to  get 
in  «  for  a  warm,"  as  poor  Smike  says,  but  to  seat  them 
selves  at  the  "  first  table,"  also ;  nay,  more,  finally 
obtaining  the  sanction  of  the  landlord,  to  "take  their 
chance"  for  the  night.  The  woods,  without,  were  red 
with  camp-fires ;  the  ground  was  marshy  and  wet,  but 
the  scene  was  of  the  wildest  and  most  exciting  nature. 
Not  a  soul  had  passed  for  several  days ;  the  gathering 
crowds,  however,  with  the  Indians  of  the  neighbour 
hood,  had  toiled  unceasingly,  and  a  few  hours'  work, 
in  the  morning,  it  was  thought  would  complete  a  tem 
porary  means  of  crossing.  The  movers  sat  listlessly, 
within  or  around  their  wagons  ;  the  negroes,  prepared 
their  suppers,  laughing  and  singing,  as  usual ;  the  In 
dians  stood  by  in  groups,  or  wandered  singly,  begging 
for  whisky ;  while  Sol  and  his  friends,  raising  the  sur 
prise  of  all,  went  «  from  tent  to  tent"  rehearsing  the 
chorusses  of  Cinderella  and  Massaniello,  then  "  in 
active  preparation,"  for  the  opening  of  the  season,  at 
Montgomery. 

Bed  time  came, — all  but  the  beds  !  The  Thespians 
had  "their  chance,"  however,  and  had  fixed  their 
hopes  upon  a  small  rude  apartment,  which,  with  divers 
barrels,  old  trunks,  saddles,  &c.,  actually  did  contain 


192  A  NIGHT  IN  A    SWAMP. 

a  cot, — carefully  watched  by  a  lanky,  stupid-looking 
fellow.  On  the  cot,  by  some  extraordinary  distribu 
tion,  were  two  pillows,  and  one  of  them  being  denied 
to  the  intruders,  as  they  arranged  their  bag  or  two  of 
straw,  a  direful  longing  for  mischief  was  aroused.  At 
length  Sol  entered,  looking  more  like  a  deacon  than 
ever  he  did  in  his  most  clerical  moments.  "Sir,"  said 
he,  to  the  proprietor  of  the  pillows,  "  you  have  no  ob 
jection  to  prayer?"  "No,"  said  the  man,  rather  con 
fused.  "  Seek  the  landlord,  if  you  please,  and  procure 
two  candles !"  The  commissioned  one  looked  at  his 
cot,  then  at  his  company — how  hushed  into  a  respect 
ful  solemnity  of  aspect — and  finally  went  to  procure  two 
candles. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  want  with  two  candles  ?" 
cried  the  landlord  as  he  stood  at  the  door,  with  a  pine 
torch  in  his  hand. 

"  That  preacher  says  he  wants  to  have  prayers  by 
'em." 

It  is  uncertain  whether  the  host  liked  least  the  de 
mand,  or  the  object  of  it;  but  after  an  equally  fruitless 
application  to  the  lady  of  the  mansion,  the  messenger 
returned — to  find  the  room  in  total  darkness,  and  his 
fellow-lodgers  fast  asleep.  He  groped  to  his  cot,  and 
his  first  exclamation  was,  "  The  pillers  gone,  by  gra 
cious!"  Another  feel — "Look  here,  deacon!"  A 
very  comfortable  snore  came  from  one  corner.  "  I  say, 
strangers,  I'll  be  go  derned  if  you  hain't  gone  to  sleep  a 
leetle  quicker  than  you'd  a-done  if  you  hadn't  gone  and 
stole  my  hull  beddin' !  not  a  dern  thing  but  the  tick  /" 
muttered  he,  as  he  continued  his  examination.  «  Strang 
ers  !"  A  simultaneous  snore  from  every  point  appeared 
to  warn  the  bereaved  one  that  the  odds  were  entirely 


«f-y  x(     • .   .- 


- . .-    -  ;  .          >'...'.•••  •     •  . 

*+"•*'  :.•«*:••      !       '  •   -     •  :  . 

^     ',  ^  ,         ^  ;       ( 

--         -     - 

'-    --^^^^((;.i; 

-H^Jir,?n.;.M, 


I 


"  Sir,»'  Mid  he  to  the  proprietor  of  the  pillows,  «  you  have  00  objectiou  to 

prayer*  ?'» 


. 

•'-'-. 


-. 


O 


•    •      .       . 
. 


A   NIGHT  IN   A   SWAMP.  193 

against  him,  and  muttering  that  he  was  "  a  dern  fool, 
any  how,"  and  "  a  pretty  dern  kind  of  a  prayer  meetin' 
that  was,"  &c.,  he  seemed  to  bestow  himself  on  the 
outside  of  the  tick.  Things  became  quiet,  when  the 
intense  darkness  was  strangely  dissipated  by  a  broad 
stream  of  blue  fire,  which,  starting  from  one  side,  made 
its  way  along  the  planks,  directly  towards  the  cot,  the 
occupant  of  which  jumped  up  in  alarm. 

"Two  candles,  h — 11!"  said  he:  "I  should  like  to 
cntch  myself  prayin'  with  such  a  dern  set, — or  sleeping 
either!  and  lie  bolted  out,  while  the  Thespians  bolted 
themselves  in  ;  restoring  the  cot  contingents, — invest 
ing  the  deacon  with  its  occupancy,  and,  finally,  empty 
ing  the  brandy  flask,  n  portion  of  the  contents  of  which 
hod  procured  the  evacuation  of  the  fortress 

The  writer  remembers  being^iwakened  in  the  morn 
ing  by  a  strange  sort  of  pushing  and  punching  at  his 
head. 

"Be  quiet,  will  you!"  cried  he,  Another  punch, 
and  an  attempt  to  pull  the  pillow  away. 

"  Oh,  thunder,"  said  he,  peevishly,  « I've  got  the 
pillow,  nml  I  mean  to  keep  it !"  Push— punch— and 
a  deuce  of  a  pull ! 

«  D — n  it,  what  arc  you  about !"  The  sleeper  started 
up  to  behold  the  snout  of  a  swine  in  the  act  of  being 
withdrawn  through  a  hole  in  the  floor,  and  the  pillow 
following  it  into  the  upper  apartment — the  pig-sty! 

How  the  deacon  contrived,  notwithstanding  the  im 
patient  crush  of  two  thousand  persons,  to  get  his  teams 
first  over  the  bridges,  in  the  morning,  ought  to  be  the 
subject  of  a  separate  story. 


17 


STEAMBOAT  MISERIES. 

AFTER  TUB  MANNER  OF  BYRON. 


a  dream — which  was  not  all  a  dream  ; 
The  «  last  bell"  bade  me  hasten,  and  'twas  said 
That  we  should  be  "  right  off,"  and,  lo,  it  was  so  ! 
And  crowded  «  guard,"  and  peopled  "  hurricane," 
And  hat  and  'kerchief  waved  from  deck  and  shore, 
And  steamy  echoes  mick-eceding  hills, 
Till  men  from  nature  turned  to  Paul  de  Kock. 

Anon  the  twilight  shadows,  a  young  moon, 
And  a  bright  planet  as  its  handmaiden, 
And  gazing  on  the  west,  where  a  dull  red 
Skulk'd  'neath  the  silv'ry  glory,  to  myself 
I  said,  "It  must  be,  surely,  supper  time  ;" 
Turning  below,  e'en  as  another  bell, 
Of  shriller  clamour  summoned  to  the  board, 
\Vhere  all  were  seated,  and — I  missed  it  that  time  ! 
Many  were  like  me,  and  one  rev'rend  man 
Spake  of  a  «  second  table,"  calm  in  faith 
That  we  should  find  it  "  much  more  comfortable." 
And  dishes  went,  and  came,  and  went  again, 
(Wide  margins  unto  strangely  larded  dabs) 
And  places  were  vacated  one  by  one, 
And  scraps  were  gathered,  and  odd-sized  boys— 
104 


STEAMBOAT   MISERIES.  195 

(None  of  'era  matched,}  seemed  hired  to  « take  their 

time ;" 

And  faithfully,  if  so,  they  earned  their  money. 
At  length  the  summons — I  was  seated,  and 
Two  odd  boys  held  huge  pitchers  at  my  head, 
On  either  side,  demanding  « tea  or  coffee  ?" 
And  tea  I  said,  but  sought  in  vain  for  milk ; 
As  vainly  for  a  stomach — frigid  dabs  ! — 
And  turn'd  I  from  pork-chop  to  munch  a  cracker, 
And  view  that  ancient  man  as  I  could  kick  him ! 

And  morn  awoke  upon  a  fairer  stream  ; 
"When,  lo  !  nor  basin,  napkin,  till  I  sought 
A  closet  on  the  "  guard"  to  come  in  ninth 
For  the  tin  bowl,  to  wipe  with  a  wet  towel, 
And  think  more  charitably,  far,  of  Boz ! 

Hunger  was  on  me,  nor  on  me  alone  ; 

Unshaven  men,  in  two  impatient  rows, 

With  grasp  on  chair-back,  eyed  the  lengthened  board; 

While  women  peeped  from  distant  "  ladies'  cabin," 

And  to  myself  I  said,  « in  this  time,  sure." 

Anon  the  captain — eager,  all  sat  down, 

And  I  was  nearest  to  the  ladies'  end, 

When,  as  I  paused  in  my  choice  of  pig, 

Came  a  low  voice,  "  You  are  a  chair  too  high,  sir ;" 

I  turned — I  saw — I  bowed — and  I  arose  ! 

Again  the  «  second  table"  and — no  milk  ; 
Cold  sausage,  bacon — priceless  were  an  egg! 
But  eggs  and  milk  being  no  part  of  pig, 
(No  more  than  basins,  towels,  and  white  soap,) 
I  simply  had  to  «  wish  that  I  might  get  it !" 


196  STEAMBOAT  MISERIES. 

And  hours.  And  meals,  and  days,  wore  dully  on  ; 
And  table — first  or  second — still,  still  pig ! 
Until  the  horrible  conception  came 
That  all  things  animal  beside  were  dead : 
Herbivone,  the  grarainivorse, 
MamraiferjB,  and  things  oviparous, 
The  finny  tribes  with  those  of  subtler  air — 
Command  having  been  spoken,  «  root  or  die  !M 
The  cloth  was  foul,  the  forks  were  i*  the  rust, 
The  plates  unwiped,  and  the  castors  void ; 
There  was  a  streaked  mass — ne'er  got  of  churn, 
Moist  yellow  cubes,  as  falsely  called  cheese  ; 
Thrice  was  a  shirt-sleeve  in  my  platter  dipped, 
And  shoat,  and  bacon,  sausage,  ham,  and  souse— 
Souse,  ham,  and  sausage,  bacon  still,  and  shoat, 
'Till  men  to  other  spake  but  in  a  grunt. 
And  if  there  be  canoe,  or  "  keel,"  or  flat-boat — 
D e  if  e'er  I  am  caught  again  on  that  boat ! 


• 

. 


, 

A  RESURRECTIONIST  AND  HIS  FREIGHT. 


«  ONCE  upon  a  time" — not  a  long  time  ago— a  popu 
lar  comedian,  of  whom  nothing  further  need  be  said, 
than  that  he  is  fast  losing  his  early  pretensions  to  shape 
and  beauty,  and  that  his  name  is  Tom  Pladde ;  once 
upon  a  time — and,  if  there  be  any  curiosity  as  tc  sea 
son,  we  might  as  well  say  "  during  the  fall" — this  wag 
of  a  fellow  was  descending  the  Mississippi,  in  fine  spi 
rits,  and  a  sporting  coat.  There  were  divers  queer 
characters  on  board  of  the  steamer,  with  whom  Tom, 
while  amusing  himself  with  their  peculiarities,  was 
withal  a  great  favourite,  but  none  of  them  "  cotton'd" 
to  him  more  kindly  than  an  elderly  « hoosier,"  from 
the  innermost  depths  of  Indiana,  and  who  was  now 
visiting  New  Orleans  for  the  first  time.  This  russet- 
looking  antique,  "whether  it  was  from  the  comedian's 
sporting  buttons,  or  his  habit  of  concluding  controversy 
with  "  I'll  bet  you,"  &c.,  fully  made  up  his  mind  that 
Tom  was  a  "gentleman  sportsman"  and  wherever  ho 
saw  a  «  small  game"  going  on,  he  was  careful  in  not 
ing  the  skill  and  quality  of  the  players,  the  "  size  of  their 
pile,"  &c,,  and  bringing  Tom  the  items.  The  "  gen 
tleman  sportsman"  was  very  much  obliged,  of  course, 
though  he  didn't  exactly  know  what  to  make  of  it, 
when,  one  day,  the  confidential  hoosier  took  him  aside, 

17*  107 


198          A  RESURRECTIONIST  AND   RI8  FREIGHT. 

told  him  that  there  was  a  « smart  chance  of  a  pile'*  on 
one  of  the  tables,  and  that  if  he  liked,  he  (the  hoosier) 
would  "  go  in  with  him — in  cahoot  /"  Tom  was  very 
much  amused  at  this,  but  told  his  proposing  partner 
that  he  was  mistaken ;  that  the  fancy  coat  covered  not 
a  "sportsman,"  but  a  player. 

"Swan  to  gracious!"  exclaimed  the  old  contriver, 
"one  of  them  fellers  that  tumbles! — seen  'em,  once, 
more'n  half  naked,  cuttin'  up,  down  to  Madison !" 

Tom  didn't  trouble  himself  much  in  explaining  the 
difference  between  a  theatrical  show  and  a  circus  show, 
but  told,  the  story  of  the  cards,  &c.  about  the  boat, 
rendering  the  old  fellow  quite  an  object  of  interest  to 
the  passengers.  Next  to  the  card-playing,  the  object 
of  anxiety  to  the  hoosier  was  a  very  large  and  singu 
larly-shaped  pine  box,  which  lay  in  the  «  Social  Hall," 
containing  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  big  fiddle,  and 
which  was  owned  by  a  very  reserved  and  gloomy-look 
ing  German,  on  his  way  south,  professionally. 

<»  Plas,"  said  the  hoosier — he  was  thrice  familiar 
with  Tom,  after  learning  that  he  belonged  to  a  show — 
«  what  on  airth  hev  they  got  in  that  box  ;  it's  the  on- 
humanist  shape  I  ever  see  in  all  creation !" 

« Hush,"  said  Tom,  mysteriously ;  « don't  you 
know  ?" 

"  No !  I'm  nighly  dead  a  guessin' !" 

«  Bodies !"  whispered  the  comedian,  with  a  strong 
expression  of  loathing. 

«  Bodies!"  echoed  the  startled  inquirer ;  «  not  ra'al 
human  bodies  ?" 

«  Bodies !"  repeated  Tom,  at  the  same  time  apply 
ing  his  handkerchief  to  his  nose  ;  « taking  them  down 
for  disssection ;  belong  to  a  doctor  on  board." 


A    RESURRECTIONIST  AND   HIS  FREIGHT.          199 

The  hoosier  turned  away,  opening  his  eyes  and 
shutting  his  nose.  At  length)  he  inquired  if  they  were 
"  Niggers" 

'  "  White  woman  and  two  children,"  was  the  reply ; 
"  one  on  each  side  of  her — accounts  for  the  shape  of 
the  box." 

At  this  moment  the  haggard,  unshaven  violinist  ap 
proached,  and  the  thoroughly  «  sawed"  victim  made 
way  for  him  as  if  he  had  been  the  cholera  incarnate  ! 

"  Goes  about  diggin'  on  'em  up,  does  he  ?"  said  he, 
between  his  teeth,  and  in  a  suppressed  voice;  «  why, 
it'll  breed  pison  !"  and  out  he  went  on  the  «  guard" 
to  lake  a  long  breath. 

Tom  told  this  joke,  also,  among  the  passengers,  who 
carried  it  on,  highly  amused;  making  wide  circuits 
whenever  they  had  to  approach  the  box,  using  their 
handkerchiefs,  and  expressing  much  indignation  at  the 
captain  for  permitting  that  description  of  freight  to  be 
brought  under  the  noses  of  his  passengers.  Some 
talked  of  leaving  the  boat,  and  others  of  lynching  the 
doctor,  till  at  length  the  captain,  who  had  also  been 
put  up  to  the  fun,  approached  the  crowd,  then  gathered 
about  the  bar. 

"  Phew  !"  sniffled  the  captain,  «  it's  very  warm  in 
here,  gentlemen  ;  phew  !"  and  he  pulled  out-his  hand 
kerchief.  "  Gentlemen,  isn't  there  something  unplea 
sant  about  here  ?" 

«  Pretends  not  to  know  what  it  is !"  muttered  the 
hoosier,  aside. 

"Barkeeper,"  continued  the  captain,  "what  the 
deuce  is  it — phew — so  queer  here  ?" 

"  Reckon  you  don't  know  !"  exclaimed  the  hoosier, 
stepping  forward,  and  almost  quivering  with  indignation. 


200         A   RESURRECTIONIST  AMD   HIS  FREIGHT. 

» 

«  Know  !  certainly  not,"  said  the  captain. 

«  Wall,  you've  got  that  box  TOO  NEAR  THE  STOVE, 


A  perfect  scream  of  laughter  rather  stumped  the  old 
fellow  ;  but  a  removal  of  "  the  lid  of  the  coffin"  was 
necessary  before  he  could  be  convinced  that  the  body, 
indeed,  was  only  that  of  «  Old  Rosin  the  Bow."  He 
paid  "  the  liquors'*  willingly,  "  cussin*  his  old  cat  for 
not  remembering  that  «  Plas"  was  one  of  the  "  show- 
folk  varmints!" 


THE  END* 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-50m-8,'66(G5530s4)458 


AMPHLET  BINDER 

=  Syracuse,  N.  Y. 

•  Stockton,  Calif. 


^   190271 


Field,  J.M. 

Drama  in  Poker- 
ville. 


PS1669 

F19 

D7 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


